


Marked

by eluvhenan



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Abuse, Age Difference, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Character Death, Consensual Possession, Controlling Behavior, Dark, Dom/sub, Drug Abuse, Drugs, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Evil Max Caulfield, Evil Max au, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jefferfield, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, Loss of Virginity, Mad!Max, Masochism, Mild Domestic Violence, Mild Painplay, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, References to Drugs, Sadism, Sexual Assault, Sexual Tension, Teacher-Student Relationship, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2019-07-23 19:37:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 84,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16165571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eluvhenan/pseuds/eluvhenan
Summary: Max Caulfield, a shy and quiet individual who falls head-first into her teacher's alluring web of seduction, crime, and darkness.What starts out as a partnership between protégé and mentor soon spirals down into something much more intense and surreal. Love blossoms, friendships are put to the test, and corruption lurks within every dark corner of Arcadia Bay.Yet they embrace it.an alternate universe where Max isn't as sweet and innocent as she seems.----Formally titled 'Beautiful Crime'.





	1. Blackhell

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first written peice on here and I hope you guys like it!
> 
> Also, in case you ignored the tags, this is a Jefferfield fanfic. Not the most popular ship for obvious reasons, so if you're not into it, I don't know what you're doing here to begin with. No hate comments, please. They will be removed.

It'd been two weeks since Maxine Caulfield arrived back into the small, quaint town she grew up in and it felt like no time has passed at all. Arcadia Bay was serene, peaceful even if you could ignore the heavy diesel trucks that cruised by with their obnoxiously loud engines. It wasn't anything to fuss over; Max certainly didn't. The overwhelmingly beautiful scenery made up for it. The place was picturesque, ripe for photo-taking with its thickly forested terrain, open beaches and a lighthouse with an incredibly breathtaking view of the ocean. Max looked forward to seeing it all through her instant Polaroid camera.

The 18 year old settled into Blackwell's dormitories nicely and was already making fast friends with nearly everyone she met. Well, except Victoria Chase and her little posse who followed her everywhere she went. They were stuck up bitches and Max didn't want anything to do with them. 

When she received word that one of her favorite photographers would be teaching here in her old home town, she _had_ to snag the opportunity to become a student at Blackwell. He was her hero. Or one of them, anyway. There were other photographers she also praised, not just Mark Jefferson. Although he was by far the most handsome and youngest. The thought made her blush as she taped one of her Polaroids to the wall in her dorm. 

School officially started the next day and Max could hardly contain her excitement. She was eager to learn and grow as a photographer. It was her dream, one she hoped to one day achieve. 

Standing beside her bed within her dorm room, hands placed on her hips, she looked thoughtfully at the wall that was covered with photos she's taken over the years. Most were dark and gritty, capturing death or destruction. Perhaps that said something about her personally. Not that she'd ever delve deeper into her psyche than necessary. Some of her interests lie in the darker aspects of life where nothing is as it should be, it was as simple as that. Other photographs amidst the dark and disturbing were of her. Selfies, tons of them, all scattered throughout.

Pleased with the outlook of her photo memorial wall, Max went to her desk where her laptop was stationed at just as the sun was beginning to set. She switched the light atop her desk on to flood the room with a soft glow before logging into a chatroom that was filled with other like minded people as her who went on about conspiracies, true crime, psychopaths like Charles Manson and horror flicks filled with gallons of fake blood. It helped pass the time and it distracted her from storming into Victoria's dorm, which was situated directly in front of hers, and smothering her with a pillow. She bothered Max _that_ much with her know-it-all attitude and bullying antics towards those she feels threatened by. They were dark thoughts, yes, but it wasn't like she had the guts to actually go through with it. No, sweet and shy Maxine Caulfield would _never_ do such a thing. 

Her username was ' psychotographer ' to not only fit the theme of the chatroom, but to also reflect a part of who she is. People within the chat teased and asked which part was her, the psycho or photographer and she simply sent a devil emoji and left it at that. 

Surprisingly, one member of the chat lived within Arcadia Bay who went by the user ' dastardbastard ' and both made a promise to each other to meet up sometime at either the lighthouse or the Two Whales diner. 

Max sighed wistfully as memories of one of her old friends came to mind at the thought of returning to that old fashioned diner her mom worked at. She hasn't contacted Chloe since arriving back and she wasn't sure how she'd react by that fact. Would she be happy she was back? Angry that she didn't contact sooner? 

Grabbing her phone, she idly wondered if Chloe even had the same phone number. With a shrug of her dainty shoulders, Max shot a simple text to her before discarding the phone to the side and clicking away from the chat to browse through the site Camera Porn. It wasn't that she didn't miss her old friend, she did, she's just grown so much over the years and miniscule things like friendships wasn't something she valued all that much anymore. Max had to focus on her future and Chloe was a thing of the past, not worth drudging back up to the surface. She winced at her own internal thinking and silently cursed at herself. 

'That's unfair, Max,' She internally said to herself. 'The least you can do is meet up with her, see how she's doing.' 

Just as she was beginning to reach for her phone once more, it vibrated, signaling a text message had been received. Looking at the text now, she saw that it was from Dana asking if she had any tampons that she could have. Slightly disappointed it wasn't from Chloe, she shot a response back to the pretty cheerleader known as Dana Ward before plugging her phone in to charge. A few minutes later, Dana appeared at Max's door, thanking her a million times for the box of tampons she handed over before going back to her room. Max retreated back to her laptop where she remained for the rest of the evening.

After an hour or so of surfing the web and chatting with her unconventional friends online, Max decided to call it a night. She still hadn't heard back from Chloe so she surmised she must either be pissed at her or had an entirely different number. If she had the time, she promised herself that she'll take a trip to Chloe's house one of these days and they'll hit it off like they had before. If not, then that was okay too. Max wasn't the greatest friend after leaving for Seattle. She failed to keep in contact with her so she could understand if Chloe wanted nothing to do with her after that. 

Curling her body comfortably under the covers, Max's eyes soon drooped shut and she fell deeper and deeper into a restful sleep.


	2. Meet and Greet

Max was up bright and early the very next day, an hour before class even started. Dressing up in a simple black t-shirt with a skull imprint on the front and dark jeans, she slung her book bag over her shoulder and exited her dorm. The dormitories as a whole were deafening. Everyone was most likely asleep, Max guessed until she saw Kate Marsh exiting her own dorm room, violin case in hand. 

She jumped in surprise when her blue eyes fell onto Max and a hand was placed on her chest to ease her rapidly beating heart. 

"Goodness, you scared me, Max." Kate breathed uneasily. 

"Sorry," Max replied apologetically as the pair fell in sync beside each other, walking down the long hall towards the stairs.

"It's okay. I'm just so easily frazzled." She explained vaguely as they exited the girl's dormitories and descended the winding staircase. 

"Music class first period?" Max asked just to keep the flow of conversation going. No one liked awkward silences, especially between one girl who was heavily into religion and the other not caring so much for it. 

The blonde glanced down at her case and smiled sheepishly. 

"Yes. It's such a beautiful instrument to not only hear, but also play. It's good for the soul." 

Max kept her facial expression as neutral as possible. It sounded ridiculous, _anything_ being good for the ' soul '. How did she know? What could that possibly feel like? She may never know. 

The two teenaged girls exited the dormitory building and was greeted by the morning sun. Max welcomed the warmth it offered as a cool, refreshing breeze billowed the trees leaves to life, whistling through the branches and creating its own sound of music. 

"I'm guessing you're here for the new photography classes?" Kate asked suddenly. 

"Yes. Who wouldn't want to study under the famous Mark Jefferson? He's an amazingly talented photographer." Max stated matter-of-factly as they continued to walk alongside one another down the sidewalk that ultimately led to the academy. 

"I agree with you. I signed up to take his class as well. I even managed to snag the position of being his student assistant this year."

For some odd reason, Max couldn't conjure up the emotion of being happy for her.

"I heard a _a lot_ of people tried getting in because of him and Blackwell only selected the best and brightest." She continued.

Max felt somewhat special after hearing that but also perplexed. She didn't exactly have a 4.0 GPA. 

"Have you met him yet?" Max heard herself blurt out as they both finally reached their destination within the school. She had world history first period and Kate had music which was on the opposite side of the building. 

"Yes," She giggled cutely in response before splitting away from Max. "He's way taller in person than he was in photos I've seen. I guess I'll see you later in his class." She ended the conversation there with a small wave and walked off towards the music hall. 

The halls on either side of Max were as quiet as the dormitories and no one seemed to be around. She'd memorized the location of each classroom she had as well as her locker and its combination. Deciding to stop there for a bit, she turned to the right and quickly scurried to it, hating how silent it was. Just as she managed to open her locker with an abrupt yank, a tune filled the long quiet halls with its jazz-like harmony. Her crystal blue eyes slowly trailed towards the sound and fell onto that of Mark Jefferson himself. 

Kate was right, he _was_ much taller in person. She couldn't possibly measure up exactly from where she stood, however. His head was turned downward towards the set of keys he had in his hand while the other held onto what Max assumed was a cup of coffee. He was fiddling with it, the clanking sound only a whisper over his powerful and clear whistling. His gait was nonchalant, relaxed in a manner most men his age didn't possess. It was as though he owned these halls, as though he belonged there with them. A pair of hip and expensive glasses rested against the bridge of his nose, its framing black with the temples being white, a stark contrast which seemed to be his entire color scheme even with his attire; a crisp button up, dark navy blazer and jeans. Simple yet sophisticated. 

The music gracing her ears suddenly registered in the depths of her mind that _weren't_ muddled and she turned to follow where he now stood in front of his classroom door to voice it. 

"Is that Crazy Like Me by David Tobin?" She asked as bravely as she could although the tremble in her soft spoken voice was a dead giveaway of her nerves going haywire. 

Mark glanced over his shoulder at the student he hadn't noticed before and simultaneously ceased his whistling. He was surprised to see a student here this early, much less one who could understand a good jazz song when it's heard. 

"It was," He answered with a cheeky grin. "Good ear." 

Turning his back to her, he twisted the key through the knob to unlock the classroom before facing the young teen once again. She stood across the hall from him, dressed more plainly than most girls her age. It was . . . refreshing to see. Her hand clutched lightly on the opposite upper arm in an almost shy manner. She reminded him of another female student in the distant past, one who had grown far too fond of him. One who - 

"You're Mark Jefferson," She stated abruptly, her gentle voice cutting through his reverie.

Before he could conjure up a response, she closed some of the distance separating them with a small smile turning the corners of her lips upward. 

"You probably hear this all the time, but I'm a huge fan. I absolutely adored the photos you took in your fall portfolio. Not a lot of people see the beauty behind such shots." 

Mark's deep chocolate-hued orbs widened only a fraction at the revelation. Hearing that she was a fan wasn't surprising, what came _after_ that was. It wasn't his most popular collection due to some of the images he'd taken and he was thoroughly astonished to hear someone so young express how much they liked it. Already he could tell that she was different, yet similar. Different from _them_ , similar to _him_ , to some capacity. 

"Truth be told, I received some heavy criticism after that was revealed. I'm surprised someone as young and . . innocent as you would find that type of material appealing." 

Max's lips pursed at the world ' innocent ' and the pause before it. That was an interesting word to use to describe her. She _was_ innocent, to an extent, virgin and all but had wildly impure and violent thoughts that sometimes couldn't be controlled. 

"I find all of your work appealing, Mr. Jefferson. You have an eye to capture the most domineering and risqué, sometimes both at the same time. It's truly inspiring." Max said confidently, quickly finding comfort in how easy the conversation was flowing. "I'm Maxine Caulfield, by the way. I'm in your art class, last period." 

For a moment, the adult male was rendered speechless. He simply eyed the teen standing before him until Ray Wells, the principal, casually walked up to them. 

"Good morning, Mark. I take it this is one of your students?"

The dark colored man looked from Mark to Max who tried hard to conceal her annoyance for being interrupted. If Mark was being honest with himself, he was a bit peeved as well. 

"Yes, this is Maxine Caulfield. We were just discussing photography, naturally." He explained to Ray, masking the irritation in his voice smoothly.

"Yes though I prefer to go by Max. Now I've got to go. Have history first period and that's all the way over there." She pointed to the other end of the hall before slamming the door to her locker closed and quickly making her exit from them both. 

Max already knew who Ray was. He was the principal and a lousy one at that, from what she's heard from Juliet and the others.

Mark watched her go for as long as he was able before Ray blocked her receding form from view, arms crossed. 

"The year is only just beginning, Mark. You can't take her _there_ just yet. It's far too soon." 

Already he was being reprimanded and he hadn't even done anything.

"We were only talking, Ray. I have no plans or ulterior motives for her." 

Ray shook his head, an unamused smile quirking his lips up.

"That's how it starts and then they go missing a week or so later. Don't screw up this time and at least _try_ to keep Nathan Prescott in check? He's acting more unhinged than usual." 

The mention of that brat had Mark rolling his eyes as he brought the steaming cup of black coffee to his lips. It was easy to manipulate the kid and he did have _some_ talent, but zero regard and guidance, even with his help. 

Ray departed with those words and an unconvinced look of his dark eyes before turning on his heel and leaving. Didn't the guy know how dangerous it was to discuss that topic so openly? Completely careless on his part and a tad bit hypocritical. _He_   could quite possibly be the one who messes up, not Mark. 

With the coffee scalding his tongue and numbing his taste buds, he entered his classroom and placed the cup and set of keys onto his desk, his mind slowly drifting back to that peculiar girl he'd met hardly ten minutes ago. Being the way he was, women couldn't steal and keep his attention for long. They always faded away in his mind, not worth remembering again. 

Maxine was _different_ , he noticed that, and it wasn't just her innocence he was drawn to. That unmistakable fact gnawed at him throughout the rest of the day until she finally waltzed through his door, her presence somehow putting his restless thoughts at ease.

It was only then did he realize how much trouble she was in. Not with the school, but with _him_. No other person made him feel that way, made him feel unsure of himself and weak. It was decided as she gravitated towards the seat furthest from him.

He had to kill her.


	3. Camera Eye

Max's heart couldn't stop beating frantically for a good fraction of the day. Although she had a decent conversation with her idol, she couldn't help feeling nervous of seeing him again. Talking to him had been so easy, easier than she thought it'd be. As nervous as she was, there was also an underlying eagerness to see him again. It was silly and pathetic to already have formed a crush on her teacher, she knew. Nothing would come of it.

When classes began and lunch rolled around, Max pushed the thought of Mark the furthest from her mind to focus on the here and now. It was the first day and she wanted to make sure she understood the material and learned from it. As for lunch, well, she didn't eat as much as she talked with some of her fellow classmates. After that, she had math lab and then finally Mark Jefferson's class, the language of photography. 

The palms of her hands were coated in sweat as she entered the classroom for the first time. The first thing she saw, of course, was Mark Jefferson. He was casually leaning against his desk, arms crossed taut against his chest along with his ankles. He appeared to be thoughtful, spaced out in his own little world by the vacant look on his face. 

Tearing her gaze from him before he could catch her gawking, she noticed she wasn't the first student in the room. Several others shared the space with her as she milled her away around the desks in search of a suitable seat. As soon as she stepped further into the classroom, into _his_ line of vision, she could feel his eyes boring into the back of her skull. A pleasurable chill ran up and down her spine and her shoulders visibly shuddered as she chose a seat beside the computer and printer. The feeling was entirely unexpected and she refused to make eye contact with him in fear of giving too much of herself away. Surely he caught sight of her physical reaction to his gaze, but to look directly into her eyes? 

'The eyes are the window to your heart.' or something like that. She simply couldn't do it, not in that moment. 

More students filed in, including Kate and, much to Max's disappointment, Victoria Chase and Taylor Christensen. At least Courtney wasn't there; that'd complete the trampy trio and add more wretchedness that is the poison of Victoria's clique.

Max glared at Victoria as she went up to presumably introduce herself to Mark who gave her a smile that didn't seem to reach his eyes. He'd pushed himself off from his desk and turned to face her completely. This made Max wonder whether he was genuinely invested in whatever conversation they were having and curious if he was enjoying it as much as the one they shared earlier. 

'Listen to yourself, Max.' She scolded herself with a frown. 'You sound pathetic. Quit looking at them.'   
And so she did. She turned her attention on retrieving her copy of Mark's written works regarding photography as well as her pencil bag and journal. By the time she was done, the bell rung and Victoria was thus forced to part ways from Mark. 

Finally able to look up without seeing the eyesore that is Victoria and Mark deep in conversation, Max turned her chin up to see him closing the door of the classroom shut then moving to stand before the class. 

"Good afternoon, everyone. In case you're somehow unaware, this is art class. Here you'll learn the basics of photography all the way up to the most vital. Looking at some of you now," He paused to drink in the image of his students' this year, his eyes lingering on Maxine a second longer than necessary before continuing on. 

Her breath caught in her throat when they did and she could no longer hear what he was saying. The color of his eyes looked darker from afar, more hidden and scrutinizing from his slightly elevated stance. 

Hearing him call her name dragged her back to the present and she looked up from the empty space in front of her to see everyone staring at her. Max gulped, nerves seizing her limbs. 

"First day of school and you're already zoning out," Mark lightly admonished. "Pun so intended." 

A wave of gentle laughter fell across the room as Max struggled to calm her nerves down. 

'They're laughing at his joke, not you.' She calmly told herself to steady her fast-growing anxiety. 

"Max?" She heard his voice break over the sudden chatter that befell the whole class. As soon as it did, they quieted down. 

"Yes, Mr. Jefferson?" Max managed to squeak out. 

Victoria stifled a giggle at the ridiculous shrilly sound of her voice which Mark paid no heed to. 

"Could you hand me that tripod propped up right next to you, please?" He asked politely with a gesture towards her left. 

She was momentarily stunned that he'd ask this favor of her. Victoria was as close to the tripods as she was yet he signaled her out specifically. Without thinking anymore on it, Max stood from her seat and carefully took hold of the nearby tripod. There were several others there all with varying heights. 

As she passed by Victoria, she half expected the pretty pixie-cut blonde to stick her foot out and trip her. When she didn't, a sigh of relief bellowed out from between her lips as she walked up to Mark, tripod outstretched towards him. 

His fingers brushed purposely against hers as he took the piece of equipment from her and a vague self-satisfied smirk teased the edges of his lips before quickly vanishing half a second later. She reacted instantly, a quick breath being sucked in through her nose as her eyes casted downward to avoid his penetrating gaze. He didn't like that, but easily managed to hide his disappointment as she awaited further instruction, if any. 

"Thank you," He murmured gratefully, dismissing her. 

Max quickly retreated back to the comfort of her desk, holding her breath captive within her lungs until she was sitting down. As Mark went about setting the tripod up a few paces in front of her, having discarded his blazer and rolled the sleeves of his white buttoned shirt up to his elbows, Max avoided eye contact with everyone. She clicked her pen out and doodled absently on the blank pages of her journal. His fingers, warm and surprisingly soft, purposely grazed her own, she realized. What she couldn't fathom was _why_.

"Alright everyone, gather around Max so I can take a shot of you all." Mark announced as he brought out an expensive-looking camera.

Kate was the first to spring up from her seat followed by Alyssa and Stella. Max shrunk further into herself for being zeroed in _again_. What the hell was his deal? She didn't know if she should be annoyed by his obvious regard of her or flattered. 

As her fellow classmates moved into the camera eye, huddling uncomfortably near to be closest to the middle, Max focused her attention on Mark as he worked. He directed who should stand where as he powered up that monster of a camera. Daniel had been standing directly behind her and Mark suggested he move elsewhere for reasons no one really questioned. Ultimately, he switched spots with Taylor and Max openly expressed her disgust with a groan loud enough for her to hear. Taylor kneed the back of Max's chair in response and she threw a glare at her over her shoulder. 

"Eyes forward, Maxine." 

Max obeyed, throwing her heated glower at Mark who returned a look just as feverish. It was as frightening as it was dazzling. It _literally_ stole her breath away and the glare in her eyes simmered down. It wasn't meant for him and an apologetic look danced its way across her soft, youthful features, hoping he'd read it and understand. She couldn't tell if he did or not for part of his face was hidden behind the camera where only his eyes were visible.

With a short intake of breath, Max stared not at the camera lens, but directly at him. Thick lashes hid part of his eyes from view, but after a few shots were taken, he stole a glance up at her and their gaze on each other locked for the briefest of seconds. And in those precious few seconds, Max caught sight of a vulnerability. One she couldn't quite describe. As soon as it revealed itself, it was gone and he straightened his back as he removed the memory card from the camera 

"Excellent. You can return to your seats now." He said to the class as he removed the camera from the tripod and returned it along with the card to his desk. 

"Would you like me to put away the tripod, Mr. Jefferson?" Victoria asked, the octive of her voice painfully over exaggerated.

"No, thank you, Victoria. I've got it." He replied as he went to fetch said item from the center of the room. 

A disappointed frown marred her otherwise beautiful features as she plopped back down to her chair, arms crossed. 

Mark folded the legs of the tripod inward before propping it alongside all the others. As he passed by, Max caught a whiff of his cologne; faint but masculine.

For the remainder of the period, Max focused on taking notes, avoiding eye contact with Mark. Every time she stared into those bottomless pools of chocolate, she feared of getting lost within them. There was something unreadable swimming there, something he tries hard at hiding. If Max knew anything, it was that you couldn't hide what was already possessed in the onlooker. In this case, _she_ was the onlooker and _he_ was the beautiful piece of art hanging in a gallery.

There was a darkness in him, she concluded. A darkness that threatened to swallow her whole.


	4. Purity

With the first day of school officially over, Max felt like a massive weight had been taken off her shoulders. She welcomed the light breeze and sunlight Arcadia Bay offered as she pushed through the double doors of Blackwell open. 

Her book bag was heavy with papers and assignments and she reached into it to relieve some of that weight by removing her instant camera from the confines. She was and always will be analog, never digital. Taking a look around the front lawn of the school, she saw plenty of other students either walking along the paved paths, sitting at the tables further off to the west or lounging in the grass beneath the full trees. 

Just as she took a step forward to join into the gorgeous scenery, a somewhat familar voice sounded to her right; a curse word followed by the screeching sound of tape being torn. Max looked to see a tall girl with blue hair, dressed like a punk with a beanie and suspenders to boot. She didn't see this girl anwhere in the school and upon closer inspection, she noticed her putting up missing posters of a young female. She didn't seem to notice Max at all. 

Curiosity got the better of her as she moved closer to the stranger, peering at the poster she taped to the wall. Rachel Amber. Her physical details were all there along with her date of birth, age, and the day she went missing. She's been gone for _six months_. 

"She's dead," Max stated bluntly to the blue haired punk. It was insensitive, but most likely true. A beautiful young girl like Rachel didn't simply vanish and live to tell the tale of their disappearance.

She whirled around, glaring daggers at Max until realization hit like a ton of bricks. It hit Max as well, her eyes widening in shock. 

"Max?" She breathed incredulously. 

"Chloe . . ?" Max mumbled in response, unsure on how she should react.

The surprise from Chloe's countenance suddenly morphed into a scowl before she turned her back to Max to plaster up yet another poster. 

"I see the years have made you bitchy." She grumbled dryly.

It hadn't occured to Max that the girl on the posters must've been someone Chloe had grown close with. Her comment about Rachel being dead certainly struck a nerve and, if Max was even remotely normal, she would've wished she had the power to rewind time to take those horrible words back. She didn't, however. Max felt _nothing_.

Knowing how this may look, she had to be _somewhat_ forthcoming if they were to rebuild what they had before although it wasn't exactly high on her to-do list, if she was being honest with herself.

"I'm sorry, I didn't put two and two together. It's just . . . attractive girls like Rachel often don't survive out there after they've gone missing. Or so history says." Max stated knowingly.

"History can go fuck itself as can you." Chloe shot back vehemently before bending down and hauling up a cardboard box overflowing with more posters. 

Her former best friend was moving elsewhere, _away_ from her. 

Max waged an internal war. Chase after her old friend and apologize profusely or chat up her new ones that were sprawled across campus? Neither one appealed to her much so she decided to go with an alternative choice - take photos.

As she wandered across the expanse of the yard, taking shots of whatever she found picture-worthy, an unfamiliar nagging feeling pulled at her attention. Carelessness, heartlessness and the lack of empathy she had in regards to Chloe disturbed her. _Why_? They'd been so close before, how did she become like this? She didn't ponder it any further as she went on her knees and bent a little forward to take a decent shot of a dead cockroach amongst a growing pile of cigarette butts. 

Taking hold of the Polaroid, she gave it a few flaps of the air before getting a good look at it. The angle and lighting were perfect and the imagery itself was something to be proud of. Just as she opened her bag to put her camera and photo away, she felt a tap on her shoulder followed by a boyish 'hey'. 

Max turned to see that dweeb Warren who was alreadygrowing a nearly unhealthy fixation on her.

"Hey, Max. Remember me? I'm Warren, the nerd who sits behind you in algebra?" 

Max chose to exit the darkened corner she found herself in and stepped out into the open area of Blackwell's front lawn where there were eyes and ears everywhere in case anything happened. It was highly unlikely, but no chances were being taken. She had an internal radar for all things strange and unusual and Warren happened to be both of those things.

"Of course I remember you," She paused as a big goofy grin slid up his face. "chatting my ear off incessantly when I was trying to work." She finished. 

That grin vanished faster than it appeared and Max couldn't suppress a smirk. Warren didn't seem to pay that any mind; he was content enough just being in her company. 

"Sorry. You're new here and I wanted to get to know you, is all." He responded sheepishly, his hand wounding its way through his sandy brown hair. 

"What did you want to know?" She asked as they walked up to a nearby tree where Stella and some nameless girl were currently residing at. 

Max sat beside Stella with Warren following suit. He sat beside Max, of course. 

"Well, uh, kinda everything? I mean, whatever you're comfortable with sharing, I guess." He tried the nonchalant route and was failing epically. Even the shrug he did was stiff and unnatural. 

"Let's see," Max began with Stella and Nameless Girl falling silent from their conversation. "I like horror movies, psychopathic killers, both fictional and non, and roses with thorns that could hurt me if I squeeze too hard. Oh, and a certain photography teacher." She ended it off with that, making it clear that she wasn't one to spill her guts out to just anyone. 

Warren remained silent, almost contemplative, as Stella giggled. 

"Ugh, I think every girl in this school has a crush on that gorgeous man." She mused wistfully. 

"Speaking of," Nameless Girl jabbed a thumb over her shoulder towards the topic at hand. 

Mark exited the school, blazer back in place. His brown, stylized hair moved slightly by the gentle gust as he took a quick gander around before spotting Ms. Grant, the science teacher. Max and Stella gaped openly at him while Warren cleared his throat uncomfortably. He's never witnessed two girls having such an open attraction to a much older man. A teacher, no less. 

When Ms. Grant pointed at their direction, both Max and Stella gasped in unison. Mark turned his head to follow the line of her pointed finger and saw that of Max. The other's around her might as well have been in his peripheral vision for they were but a blur in his eyes. 

Extending his thanks to Ms. Grant, he made his way to the small group of students and clenched his jaw when seeing a male sitting beside his future muse. It was ridiculous to already see her as his model for the dark room, but the yearning couldn't be ignored. Especially when he saw her taking photos earlier through his classroom window. So innocent, so _pure_. 

"Evening, kids." He greeted upon arrival, his hands shoving their way into his jeans pockets. 

Max had snapped out of the trance-like state his appearance always seemed to throw her in, but hearing his voice threatened to toss her back in. 

"Do you mind if I borrow your friend for a moment?" He asked them after a fleeting second, his gaze interlocking with Max's.

"Go ahead," Nameless Girl replied with a careless shrug.

Stella seemed to be lost for words and Warren appeared to be intimidated. With that blessing, he gestured for Max to follow him and she did so hesitantly. Once they reached a decent spot away from prying eyes and ears, he turned to face her. She had to tilt her head up to look into his eyes due to his imposing height and even when she did, she had to quickly look away. He smothered her with his gaze alone.

"You probably weren't expecting to see me until tomorrow, hm?" He started, amusement lacing each vowel although, unbeknownst to her, was a mask to hide his annoyance of her incapability to look him in the eye.

Max relented a light snicker. 

"To be honest, no, I wasn't. Pray tell, what's this about?" She tried her hand at sounding sophisticated and it came out horribly. Regardless, he chuckled warmly. 

" _This_ little intervention is about you, actually." 

Max decided to hear what he had to say fully before freaking the fuck out. The brain and heart hardly coincide with one another so of course her heart had different plans and was already beating wildly in her chest.

"I'd like you to assist me in class. This includes helping me grade papers, preparing future assignments, that sort of thing." He explained plainly as if it was the most vapid thing on earth.

As much as Max wanted such a position, working directly _under_ someone as renowned as Mark Jefferson, she thought on the how he acted around her thus far. In the beginning when they first met, he was friendly and not as aloof as a lot of people have described him to be. During that short time apart, something changed. The way he _looked_ at her with immense intensity made her a tiny bit uneasy, but she'd be a fool to turn down the offer. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, a memory that was said to her earlier that day sprung to mind.

"Wait - isn't Kate Marsh your student assistant? She told me she was this morning." Max said as she brushed strands of her brown hair away from her face. 

Mark shook his head 'no'. The position was promised to her last year when she was a junior and taken an interest in not only photography, but him as well. 'Things change,' he'd told her, inconsiderate of how it'd affect her ego and emotions once she found out Max has taken her place. It wasn't his problem.

"Can I be frank?" He asked, taking the tiniest step closer that Max could easily brush off as a figment of her imagination. He didn't wait for a reply. "I want _you_ specifically, Max. You're . ." He paused, trying to pinpoint the correct word to use to describe her. "You're . . ." He tried again only to fall silent as she subconsciously leaned towards him, lips slightly parted and ears figuratively peeled to hear what he had to say. 

"Different." He finished, taking a healthy step backward in case anyone happened to pass by. 

"What makes me so different?" She challenged daringly, wanting to know why she was so damned special. 

Mark's jaw visibly clenched and Max took that moment to silently admire the short beard he sported. She found herself curious on how it'd feel under her touch and even briefly fantasized how he'd react if she were to reach out and comb her fingers over it until she felt the warmth of his fingers pressed against her skin.  
All breathing ceased as his fingertips gently glided over the smooth rounded plains of her face.

"Your purity." He murmured, the sensation of how soft her skin was sapping away his perfectly placed composure.

His touch was feather-soft and all too short lived. His hand immediately fell away and he seemed to be fighting an internal battle against himself and what was morally correct. Or so Max thought. In reality, he fought on whether he should take, photograph and kill her now or wait to see how much longer he can hold out before he couldn't handle it anymore. He was already letting her see too much of his true self and to him, that was more dangerous than the likely student/teacher relationship slowly developing between them. He's already had that with several other female students. It was nothing new or exciting. No, he needed to stop this _now_ , but he couldn't very well take back his offer. He'll have to make do.

Max's hand reached up to caress the skin where his fingers felt like they left scorch marks. 

'My _purity_? What -'

Her thoughts were interrupted with him clearing his throat. 

"I've answered your question now answer mine," He said casually as if nothing remotely intimate occured between them at all. "Do you agree on becoming my student assistant?" 

"Yes," She immediately answered, afraid that if she delayed for even a second that he'd retract the offer and give it to someone else. 

A smile split across his face at that as he moved to make his departure, much to Max's disappointment. 

"Very well, then. I'll be seeing you tomorrow, bright and early." 

With that said, he was gone. 

Her first day at the prestigious Blackwell Academy under the teachings of a famous photographer that admittedly admired her purity was eventful to say the least. Max was looking forward to tomorrow, completely unaware of how gradually dark the tunnel of her life in Arcadia Bay was going to get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fellow Jefferfield shipper commented on the previous chapter about how fast pace this story is so far (which I couldn't agree more on) and I intend on remedying that in the following chapters the best way I can before things really start to take off with Mark and Max.  
> If you enjoy this story, please leave support! It encourages me to write and update more frequently.


	5. Distractions

After her encounter with Mark, Max quickly withdrew to her dorm. She heard Warren calling after her, but she ignored him entirely. She forced her legs to move faster until his voice was nothing but a distant shout. She couldn't talk to him or anyone else, for that matter. What occurred between her and her teacher broke boundaries they both knew should stay intact. Despite this fact, it thrilled her to the core that he'd break through that boundary first and _on_ the first day of school too. Nevermind the consequences, Max was attracted to him and if he wished to touch her cheek again for even a moment, she'd let him.

He didn't. If anything, he grew more distant. She didn't question him and he didn't bring it up; it was as though the intimate gesture never happened. For the rest of that week, Max got up every morning earlier than the average student to help Mark out before class started that day. He kept her busy, hardly exchanging any words of sociability other than 'good morning' or 'have a good day'. It bothered her more than it should. Coming to grips with this, she realized she needed to go out that weekend. 

When Warren asked if she'd like to go out to eat with him and a couple of other friends that Friday, she took the opportunity given to her and agreed. A bright grin had stretched across his face and Max wanted to roll her eyes at it. 

"It's not a date," She'd told him, unsmiling.

"Of course not," He'd responded quickly with that same smile intact, clearly unoffended.

That marks one day - she sighed. Why did _his_ name have to be associated with a common word? Her train of thought slowly got back on track as she pushed _him_ the furthest from her mind. One day of the weekend was taken care of, but what of the other two? She could go to Chloe's and salvage whatever was left of their friendship on Saturday and if things go swimmingly between them, that could bleed into Sunday as well. 

Max mentally facepalmed herself for her silliness. She was going to be seeing Mark five days a week for the rest of the year; she couldn't possibly _not_ think of the guy and not feel anything towards him either. She'll just have to power through. 

As she tuned the acoustic guitar gifted to her by her parents, the vibration of her phone drew the attention away from the chords. It was a text from Warren that said to meet him in the school parking lot in ten minutes. Tucking the device inside her back pocket, she resumed her ministrations from before, loosening and tightening the strings until they sounded good to her ears.  
Her fingers strummed the chords in unison, a soft melodious hymn reverberating from the wooden instrument. She wasnt much of a musician, but learned most of the basics with the guitar thanks to a tutor her father hired some years ago. 

Figuring it'd take roughly five minutes to reach the parking lot at a reasonable pace, Max leant her guitar against the wall, checked her reflection in the mirror beside the door to make sure her hair hadn't gotten in total disarray by the wind, then exited her room. As she walked through the double doors of the dorm building, her shoulder bumped into another solid mass that hardly moved when she ran into it. 

"Sorry-" 

"Watch it," The voice of Nathan Prescott spat at her as he entered the building. 

Max watched him go, irked at how rude he was towards her, especially when she tried apologizing for it. He seemed to be in a hurry from how fast he went inside, hardly giving her a second glance. She didn't know much about Nathan other than his insanely rich family who practically owned all of Arcadia Bay and his close ties with Victoria. Knowing that second part was reason enough to stay the hell away from him. 

She reached the school's front lawn before running into Stella and Alyssa along the way who were chatting up a storm. When Max drew near, they immediately fell silent and Stella greeted her with a smile. 

"Hey, Max. I'm surprised Warren convinced you to join us on this little outing."

"Yeah, I just couldn't resist his suave moves and honeyed words. He really reeled me in." She joked flatly. "Besides, he offered to pay." 

Stella laughed at that. 

"It took little convincing for us to go. He's a cool guy when you get to know him." 

That was the thing, she _didn't_ want to get to know him. And the more she replayed that sentence in her head, the more it sounded like Stella was trying to sell him to her, so to speak. Max didn't voice this as they entered the parking lot where the rest of the group was waiting. 

Warren was leaning against an old school blue car with a few unfamiliar faces hovering around him. 

"Jeez, how many people were invited to this thing?" Max asked aloud to no one in particular. 

"More than what you see here," Alyssa responded in her usual bored tone of voice.

"Max!" Warren waved her over, smiling ear to ear as soon as he saw her. 

She swallowed down a groan as the trio of girls reached Warren and the two nameless males beside him. 

"What is this, a circle jerk?" Max blurted out unthinkingly which earned her a loud cackle from one of the guys.

"Ha ha, very funny." Warren said sarcastically before motioning to the guys on either side of him. 

"Alyssa and Stella already know who these dudes are, so I introduce _you_ , Max, to Brandon and Eric. They're in our algebra class too." 

Looking them over, Max found it weird for two prep-looking guys to associate themselves with a nerd like Warren. Then she faked a smile and inclined her head to both of them in acknowledgment.

"Nice to meet you. Can we get going now?" 

"Oh, sure! Hop in." He motioned towards his car that couldn't possibly have room for them all. 

"Eric and I will get to the diner in my truck. Any of you ladies wanna ride with us?" Brandon asked as he started moving towards his vehicle. 

With the way he looked at Max, she decided she was safer staying with Warren. He may be a bit quirky and weird, but he at least had the decency not to look at her like a piece of meat. 

"No thanks," She muttered to Brandon as she rounded Warren's car to get into the front seat. 

"I will," Stella piped up before making her way towards Brandon's truck. 

Alyssa hesitated for she saw what Max did and wasn't comfortable with it, but she didn't want her friend to be alone, so she chose to follow after her. This left Max alone in the car with Warren who couldn't be more ecstatic. 

"I dunno about you, but I am _craving_ chicken fried steak right now."

\- 

Mark looked out his classroom window after school that day, contemplating his future muses for the year. Kate fit the criteria perfectly and met every standard as did several other students that caught his eye. Try as he might, he couldn't push the thought of Maxine Caulfield from his mind. _She_ could be his masterpiece if there wasn't a dark shadow lurking behind those eyes everytime she looked at him. There was something . . off, about her. Something he couldn't quite place or put a name to. It didn't matter, in the long run. If he wanted to photograph her, he will, regardless of how painfully different she was from the rest of them; regardless of how powerless she made him feel. 

He pulled back significantly since his actions on Monday, afraid that if he allowed them to continue on that course that she'll realize too much, delve too deep into the vast black ocean that was his psyche. Though it bothere him, it had to be done. 

Shutting his eyes, he took a deep slow breath then exhaled out through his nose. The thought of her always sent his thoughts scrambling and he was thankful that the weekend was finally here. He had a break from her and she from him. Mark knew he affected her with his presence just as much as she did with him and there wasn't much they could do about it. 

Opening his eyes, he scanned the area of the lawn until they fell upon a familiar thin frame with short brown hair. Max was walking beside Alyssa and Stella towards the parking lot and he was left to wonder where they were running off to. It was the weekend so the possibilities were endless. A nagging part of him was curious to know exactly _where_ so he could keep a close eye on her while the other, more sensible part told him to go home. Removing himself from the spot in front of the window, that's exactly what he did. He packed his things up, locked the door behind him and left after returning the key to the classroom in front office. 

From that point forward, he forced the thought of Max into a box and shoved it to the deepest depths of his mind, not to be opened up until the following Monday. He needed to get in touch with Nathan soon and tell him to get in contact with that low life Frank Bowers for a new supply of sedative drugs. The sooner Max was out of the picture, the sooner he could focus fully on what lies ahead in the more unorthodox side of his career. All of this Mark mulled over during the short journey to his car. 

In the meantime, he needed a distraction and knew exactly where to get it.


	6. Outing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay, folks. I recently purchased Assassin's Creed: Odyssey and I've been playing it religiously! So much so that I've completely neglected to update this story. Until now, that is. ;) Enjoy!

Max's trip to the Two Whales diner with Warren was relatively silent. He tried multiple times to initiate some type of conversation and each attempt failed to capture her attention enough to elicit a reponse he could work with. She stared out the window almost wistfully and it wounded his ago to see her not enjoying his company. When he first saw her arrive at Blackwell with her bags in tow, he thought they'd hit it off famously and would become good friends. Thinking back on the groups of people he often saw her with the past few days, he realized she didn't stick with the same people for long. It was as though she was hopping by, trying to see which clique fit her most. Then he was reminded of that freak incident with the art teacher. He'd never seen her walk away so fast.

"I've been meaning to ask," He started warily as he turned into the diner's lot. 

Max's eyes grew wide as nostalgia hit her like a ton of bricks upon seeing the flickering neon sign of the Two Wales logo. So often she came here as a little girl asking for the bacon omelette with extra bacon. Joyce never hesitated to grant her wishes by cooking the order herself to make sure she got what she wanted. A faint smile curved along her lips as Warren's voice broke through the pleasant memory. 

"Huh?" She turned to look at him.

"I asked what went on Monday afternoon. That photography guy pulled you aside to talk and then you ran off to your dorm without a word. It kinda scared me. I thought maybe . . he might've hurt you or something." 

Max wasn't expecting him to bring that subject up and was disappointed when he did. Mark was the last person she wanted to think about, much less _talk_ about. 

"'That photography guy' has a name, Warren." She stated, offended on behalf of Mark for his ignorance. "And he didn't hurt me." 

She recalled the memory vividly - his fingertips gently tracing over the curve of her cheek, the captivated look in his brown eyes, that fleeting moment in time where everything seemed to stop. It lasted forever yet not long enough. 

"After my discussion with him, I didn't feel like talking to you or anyone and I'm sorry for not communicating that with you sooner." 

She wasn't actually sorry, but if it meant that he'll drop the subject and forget all about it, then it was something worth saying. 

"Hey, it's okay. I totally get it. No harm, no foul." 

With that boyish grin of his, he hopped out of his car with Max following suit. She took in her surroundings whilst slowly making her way towards the entrance of the diner. Nothing seemed too different from the last time she was here besides the suspicious RV parked further back into the lot. She studied it for as long as she was able, wondering who owned such a large vehicle and if they knew of any nearby car washes as it desperately needed a good cleansing. 

Warren opened the door for her when they approached and as soon as she walked in, the delicious aroma of eggs and coffee wafted her way. Just like outside, Max noticed nothing in here changed much either. The interior design remained the same as before with its torn red booths, chipped beige wall paint, and crummy jukebox that played banjo tunes in its same position to the far right all those years ago. 

"Over here!" She heard a deep voice call her over. 

It was Brandon who was already seated at a booth to the left of her with Eric, Stella, and Alyssa. 

"'Bout time you slowpokes got here. We've been waiting for, like, five minutes." Brandon said as Max and Warren made there way towards the group. 

"Impatient, are we?" Max muttered as she scooted in beside Stella and looked over the menu she had splayed out on the table. 

Warren sat in front of Max just as their waitress stepped up to them. 

"Y'all ready to order?" A familiar voice asked. 

Looking up, she saw a slightly older Joyce standing there with her notepad in hand, blonde hair pinned up in a neat updo. The apron tied around her waist was stained and her navy blue uniform was slightly wrinkled from wear; she must've been working all day. 

When her weary green eyes fell onto Max, realization visibly dawned on her as a smile soon carved its way onto her thin lips. 

"Maxine Caulfield, how long has it been?" She asked, planting her hand on her hip. 

The table of idle chitchat fell silent as they looked from Joyce to Max expectantly. 

"Five years," She replied with a small smile. "How've you been, Joyce? How is Chloe?" 

Joyce made a dismissive gesture at the mention of her troublemaking daughter. 

"Things have not been the same since . . well, you know. She does her own thing now, hardly tells me anything when she goes out. Have you contacted her?"

"I've tried, but she hasn't responded back to me." 

Max decided not to mention her brief encounter with Chloe at Blackwell. It wasn't something worth mentioning.

"That girl," She shook her head. "I'll let her know about your being here, if you want. You two used to be so close and she could use an old friend right now." 

"That'd be great, thank you." 

"Of course. Now," Joyce looked to the rest of the group. "What would you all like to eat?" 

\----

Max poked at her food mindlessly as endless chatter filled the table of teens. She chimed in here and there but was mostly absent from conversation. The few times she did choose to look up from her plate, she saw how Brandon was staring at Stella and she'd look down, blushing and bashful from the silent exchange. It reminded Max of the way Mark looked at her only with less lust and more ardor. She didn't like Brandon. Something about him was off and she was surprised someone as perceptive as Stella didn't see that. 

Feeling a nudge at her shoulder, she was pulled away from her thoughts and to the present. Stella was wiping her mouth clean with a napkin before tossing the crumpled mass on her empty plate. 

"Have you talked to Kate?" She asked. 

"No, why?" 

"She's been upset ever since you took her spot as teacher's assistant. Mr. Jefferson's, to be exact." 

She wanted to say that it wasn't her problem and was close to muttering it too until Joyce came by with the bill. A brief argument ensued between Brandon and Warren on who was going to pay for Max as though that could possibly win her affection which she tuned out completely to focus on the topic with Stella.

"I didn't _take_ it, he gave it to me." She retorted.

Stella's eyebrow quirked up as an unconvinced expression crossed her face. 

"That's not how she sees it." 

Max inconspicuously rolled her eyes, arms crossing over her chest as she wondered how Kate even knew that she was his assistant. It wasn't exactly widely known and she hadn't told anyone about it.

"I'll talk to her whenever I see her again." Max said after a while.

"Good, I think she'll appreciate that." 

She didn't want Kate's appreciation just like Mark didn't want her assistance and there was no guilt or remorse to be felt for taking the offer that was given to her. Anyone with even an inkling of adoration for him would've done the same. 

Max stood when the bill was finally settled (which Brandon paid for) and with a farewell wave to Joyce over the counter, she exited the establishment alongside the two stooges.

"Ride with us, Max." Brandon offered as both he and Eric fell in step with her.

"No," She declined tartly before glancing over her shoulder in search of Warren who was nowhere to be seen. 

"Come on. I got a stereo, sick bass and a stash all in my truck." He murmured, planting both of his large hands onto her shoulders to guide her to his vehicle. 

"Fuck off!" She yelled at him, yanking herself free from his grubby hands. 

His hands lifted in the air defensively as Stella and Alyssa quickly caught up to them.

"What's going on?" Stella asked, concerned.

"Nothin'. Max is just being a killjoy." Eric answered before anyone else could. 

Of course he'd be on Brandon's side, they were butt-buddies after all. 

"Where's Warren?" Max questioned, wanting to get as far away from them as possible. 

"He said he needed to use the restroom." Alyssa replied. 

"Great. I'll just wait for him here." She mumbled, wandering away from the small gathering. 

"Or you could ride with us. That's always an option." 

She ignored Brandon entirely and continued on her walk towards the RV she spotted earlier. A thick layer of dirt covered the whole of it as she examined it more closely, rounding the front until she saw a dog and presumably its owner on the other side. The stranger's figure was slumped in a chair, a cap drawn downward on his head to keep most of his face hidden beneath it. The dog by his side was sleeping soundly by his side and it appeared like the owner was too.

'Welcome to Sketch City, Max.' She said to herself as she hovered nearby, tangling her fingers together to ease her rapidly building nerves. For some inconceivable reason, she wanted to go up to him and strike some type of conversation. From what she can tell, he lived on the road, most likely alone if you excluded his dog. There was an air of danger and mysticism that permeated around him and Max found herself drawn into it like a tornado. 

The ears of the dog perked up as soon as she took her first step forward and he lifted his head to look back at her. The canine immediate shot up and started barking wildly at her which in turn roused the sleeping man from his seat. 

"Pompidou, quiet!" He yelled at his pet while righting the hat on his head. 

He glared at Max as he relaxed back in the chair, snapping his fingers for Pompidou to return back to his side. The dog slowly made his way back to his owner before plopping down to stare at the intruder. With his face now visible, she could see how young he was, the goatee he exhibited, the dirty blonde locks that tumbled out from his cap and the tattoos on either side of his neck; she wasn't close enough to see the details of it.

"Cute dog," She divulged hesitantly, her arms going up to wrap around herself. 

"There's nothing 'cute' about him." He shot back angrily. "Now fuck off." 

She _did_ disturb his slumber so she wasn't that offended by his rudeness, but she didn't intend on 'fucking off'.  When she opened her mouth to say this, she heard Warren call her name in the distance. 

"Max! Where are you?" He shouted into the lot as he walked around the middle in search for her. 

The man stood from his chair and folded it, his shrewd eyes boring holes into hers. 

"That's your exit cue, _Max_." He grumbled to her before opening the door to his RV and disappearing within, carrying the folded chair with him. Pompidou followed in after and she flinched at how hard he closed the door behind him. 

She couldn't begin to ponder what the hell his deal was as Warren went up to her, breathing out a sigh of relief. 

"I thought you abandoned me and ran off with Brandon and the others." He'd told her then glanced around. "What're you doing back here?" 

Max looked to the front windows to see that they were blotted out so she couldn't see a thing inside even if she tried. Instead of answering him, Max asked a question of her own. 

"Do you know the guy who owns this?" She made a gesture to the RV.

Warren examined the vehicle in question for a moment then shook his head as he shoved his hands into his front pockets. 

"Nope. Do you?" 

"If I did, I wouldn't be asking you." 

With one final glance at the RV, Max took her leave of the place and went to Warren's car with him following close behind. It wasn't a particularly horrible outing, she did somewhat enjoy herself, mostly towards the end when she was speaking to the guy with the tattoos. Everything else was mind-numbing and forgettable save for a few tidbits she kept stored away. Warren didn't try to initiate conversation this time, much to her surprise and relief. When they arrived back at Blackwell's dormitories, she thanked him for taking her out then quickly ducked into the girls dorms. He barely managed to squeeze in a goodbye before she bolted.

 

\----

With the afternoon drawing to a close and the evening sun setting over the horizon, Max decided to end the day by watching a few horror flicks. Films like these kept a tight leash on her thoughts, preventing them from wandering too far into the frightening or impossible. Her body stretched out over the length of her twin sized bed, arms curled under her head as her weary eyes remained fixated on the screen. Try as she might, she couldn't keep her mind from drifting to Mark. She wondered what he was doing, his plans for the weekend and if he'd be sharing it with anyone now that he was free from his obligations for Blackwell. It was pathetic to be thinking this, she knew, but it couldn't be helped. 

\----

Mark enjoyed going to art galleries. It helped clear his head and prevented him from acting out on his wants and desires. What he longed for currently was out of his reach for now, nestling cozily in the dorms of Blackwell. He had Nathan survey the entrance of the dorms to keep him informed on Max's arrival. Once Mark had his eye on someone, he didn't let them out of his sight. 

He promised himself not to think twice on her for the remainder of the weekend, but broke it as soon as he drove out of the parking lot that afternoon. Being unable to wrench his thoughts away from her angered him; no one prior to her managed to retain his attention so strongly. Her sheer undiluted purity was going to be the death of him if he wasn't careful, if he didn't rid himself of her _soon_. 

With a glass of whiskey in hand, the other leafed through one of the many red binders he kept filed away in his dark room. It was late, the lights were dim and he couldn't feel anymore at home. His eyes flicked across the black pages of the binder, admiring his work on one of his earlier victims named Megan. She resembled Max in a lot of ways - short hair, wide eyes, petite frame, pure. The only difference between them was Max's indifference to it all. Where Megan strived to be more than herself, more than what was expected of her, Max was content to remain where she was, blending in with the shadows much like himself. 

Megan lived in the end and graduated to become a successful wedding photographer. He kept track of her work for a short while and noted the techniques she picked up from his teachings before letting go of her entirely. It was comforting to know that she'd never know what happened to her here, what her art professor whom she deeply admired did all in the name of art. 

Shutting the binder closed, he pushed it off to the side whilst taking a swig of the alcohol. He placed down the half empty glass on the desk as he dragged an empty binder in front of him. The thick spine read 'Max' and a wicked grin slid up his face at the intoxicating thought of having her down here with him, bound and helpless.

'Soon,' He thought silently to himself as he relaxed back in the cushioned swivel chair. 'Very soon, Max.'


	7. Old Friend

Max found herself walking down the quiet neighborhood alone with only her memories to keep her company. Many times her parents took this road to drop her off at Chloe's house and she'd stay for days on end even if it was a school night. Other times it was the other way around and Chloe would stay at Max's although there was significant less space for activities since she once lived in a two bedroom apartment. Regardless, they spent nearly every waking hour in eachother's company; they were inseparable. 

Now, both grown with their own experiences life offered them, it seemed like Chloe didn't want to have anything to do with her. Max no longer recognized that sweet, playful girl she knew all those years ago and she shouldn't be all that surprised. What Chloe went through at such a young age would change anyone. Then again, Max went through changes of her own; albeit, not as drastically as her old friend, but they were changes all the same and perhaps Chloe saw that too on that day they saw each other for the first time in years.

She wasn't sure if Joyce managed to talk to her daughter on Max's behalf. If she did, Chloe most likely didn't care and hadn't bothered texting her back or Joyce never got the chance. From what was told about her yesterday, she guessed Chloe was always out and about, never informing her mother of where she was or who she was with. It was like she was a ghost in the Price household, only lingering there for as long as she wanted before leaving to do whatever her heart desired.  

Standing in front of the house itself with its unfinished blue paint job and wilted flower beds, Max made her way along the cracked path leading to the front door, noting the rusty truck parked in front of the garage that she assumed belonged to Chloe. She wasn't as nervous as she thought she'd be as she knocked on the front door. The knock itself was as soft and quiet as she was so she decided to ring the doorbell instead. It took only a moment before she heard the distinct sound of approaching footsteps. She jerked away from the door as it swung open and a man with a crew cut and mustache filled the space of it. She didn't recognize him at all but by the look in his dark eyes, she could see the telltale signs of recognition flash within them.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?" He asked as though they were familiar. 

Max's eyes narrowed at him a fraction as he glowered at her for no other reason than his suspicions. 

"How do you know my name?" 

He scoffed with a shake of his head. 

"I know everyone's name at Blackwell if it's worthy of note, like yours. Now, answer _me_. I won't ask again." 

She really didn't like the tone he was using on her or his mannerisms. He looked like someone who wouldn't take no for an answer or would rough somebody up if they so much as looked his way. It was quickly decided that she disliked this man, whoever he was. He must've been a teacher or something at Blackwell if he knew she attended school there.

"I'm here to see Chloe." She finally answered. It suddenly occured to her that they may have moved to a different place small enough for two people where the memories of William couldn't haunt them.

"Why?"

"I'm a friend of hers." 

"Negative. Chloe doesn't have any friends." 

Her eyebrows furrowed at the use of the word 'negative'. This wasn't the military. 

"She has _one_ ," Max argued as she peeked over his shoulder to see the inside. 

"Chloe! It's me, Max! I-" 

Before she could get another word out, she felt the man push her roughly by the shoulder until she stumbled back as he closed the door behind him to keep her voice from traveling through. 

"Listen here, Maxine Caulfield," He started, pointing his finger at her accusingly. "If I catch you here again, I won't hesitate to call the police. This is private property and you're trespassing." 

First assault and now threats? Who the hell was this guy? Max couldn't even think of an appropriate response when she heard the window on the second floor slide open. 

"Leave her alone, asshole." Chloe shouted as she climbed out of the window. 

A swell of gratitude filled Max with renewed vigor. She lifted her chin high and stood as tall as she could. 

"I came here to visit Chloe and there's nothing you or your mustache can do about it." 

Chloe jumped the short distance down to the hood of her truck as Max stood up to her step father and laughed when she heard what was said. 

"C'mon, Max." Chloe signaled her over, all but ignoring David as she got into the truck. 

David had his mouth agape, eyes watching Max disappear within the trashy vehicle. Self-consciously, he reached up to stroke his mustache, his countenance morphing from shock to annoyance. The truck had long vanished down the road and he grumbled as he turned to stomp back into the house. Both of them were nothing but trouble and that'd be the last time either of them embarrassed him again. 

\----

Max looked through the back window of the truck to see David retreat back into the house, clearly defeated. 

"Who the hell was that guy?" She asked, facing forward. 

"Just another dollop of shit to add to the massive pile that is my life." 

Chloe had her arm propped up on the door, one hand on the wheel as she sped through the streets of Arcadia Bay. There was no inkling to where they were going and Max didn't really care. Maybe this meant Chloe wasn't upset with her anymore regarding her comment about Rachel. She kept herself from asking in fear that if she brought it up, it'd bring back that anger from before and that was the last thing she wanted. Instead, she took in her surroundings. The inside of the rustic truck was no better than the outside. Writings and drawings in permanent marker were scrawled across every surface, a single square carpet below was all that separated her feet from hitting the pavement on the road, and her side of the window was slightly cracked. 

"Gee, thanks Chloe for saving me from that douche nozzle." Chloe spoke sarcastically as though from Max's point of view. 

Max caught the hint of amusement of her voice and her body relaxed from the sound of it. She wasn't angry with her anymore. 

"Thank you, Chloe. Seriously. And that guy really is a 'douche nozzle'."

She shrugged absentmindedly. 

"David says he means well, but he's a total asshole. Joyce lets him dictate the house, myself included. I hardly stay there anymore." She explained angrily, leaning her head against her propped up hand. 

Max pursed her lips, unable to imagine herself living under the same roof of someone as domineering as that. 

"He knew my name and mentioned Blackwell. Do you know what his position is there?" She asked, looking over to Chloe.

" _You_ should know since you go to school there and all." 

"But I don't." 

Chloe sighed heavily as she turned the wheel, pulling the truck into a long dirt road that led to a junkyard. 

"He's the security guard." She replied as they slowly traveled the length of the driveway, bumping this way and that from the uneven terrain.

As Chloe parked the truck just inside of the entrance, Max studied her surroundings with keen interest. The place was a dump, but it had a certain idyllic charm to it. Being a photographer, an amateur one at that, every area, no matter how unpleasant to the eye it may be to other people, was perfect for taking photos. She stepped out of the truck to get a better look around and Chloe followed her actions. 

"Welcome to American Rust, my home away from hell." Chloe announced proudly as she walked further into the junkyard. 

"Raw and rough," Max murmured in response as she walked by a pile of rusted drums, her fingers skidding across the coarse metal. "I like it." 

Chloe threw her a skeptical look, finding that very hard to believe. She took that moment to give her friend a once-over, taking in her choice of attire which was still as simple as it was back then only with darker tones of color and dismal imagery. The style was similar to her own, much to her surprise. It seems she wasn't the only one who changed over the years, Max had as well. 

"Nice hair, by the way." Max complimented as she wandered towards the abandoned school bus nearby. 

She reached into her bag for her camera when she reached a certain angle of the bus. There were so many photo opportunities in that desolate area of trash that would look perfect in a polaroid and Max wanted to take as many as she could. Film was expensive, but her parents managed to stockpile a lot throughout the years for when their daughter needed it most; she kept it all hidden under her bed within an air tight box and has yet to dip into it. 

"Yeah, well, I'm Captain Chloe Bluebeard, remember? Gotta live up to the name." 

Max snickered, recalling that fond memory when they used to play as pirates - when things were simple, fun, and innocent. 

"Yet I see no beard." She joked playfully before peering into the viewfinder of her camera and taking a shot of the rotted bus with its number '142'. 

She heard Chloe approach then felt a nudge at her shoulder. 

"I'm working on it. Now let's see that shot," 

Snagging the photo from the port, she handed it to Chloe and waited patiently for a critique, if any. 

"Uh, I think something is wrong with your camera, Max." She said, passing it back. "It's black and white."

Giggling, Max took the photo from her hold and placed it inside her bag along with the camera. "It's supposed to be, silly. I'm using monochrome film." 

Chloe didn't necessarily know what that was, but was smart enough to assume that's what made the picture come out in black and white. 

"I knew that." She lied, earning yet another laugh from Max. 

Grinning genuinely for the first time in a long time, Chloe tugged at the strap of Max's bag to get her to follow as she led the way towards a small shack. Her and Rachel spent so many hours here talking, laughing, and fucking around. It pained Chloe to think of her and not know where she was, who she was with, if she was in danger. It was a helpless feeling that made has made her miserable the past six months. 

Stepping inside the small abode, Max knew instantly that this was where Chloe and Rachel used to hang out. She was written on the very walls and her presence could be felt by how heavily influenced the place was by her. It was like stepping into another time. Sitting down on a small wooden bench, Max noticed matching friendship bracelets just beside her with their initials dangling from faux silver followed by a bong, multiple empty pizza boxes, magazines, and a makeup case that couldn't have possibly been used by Chloe. Overall, the place possessed an air of homeyness to it.

Chloe plopped down on a seat that, at one point, belonged in a car before taking her beanie off to run a hand through her hair. 

Studying her for a moment, Max chose to apologize now. Being surrounded by remnants of Rachel seemed a good place as any. 

"I want to apologize for what I said to you on our first . . meeting, after five years. I had no idea that was you nor the history you and Rachel shared. From what I can see here, you two seemed close." 

Chloe didn't answer at first. Only closed her eyes as memories of her missing friend flooded through in vivid waves. Max shifted, uncertain if she should comfort her or not; she didn't really know how anyway and Chloe wasn't expecting it from her.  
Silent minutes passed until she placed her beanie back on her head and shrugged the pain off. All was forgiven.

"I don't blame you for not recognizing me. Blue hair, tats, punk clothes - totally different from what you remember."

Max agreed with a nod of her head, unable to picture her now without it. 

"You pull it off well." 

She didn't respond as she fingered the pockets of her black jacket for a cigarette and lighter. Max watched as she lit the cancer stick and inhaled deeply. Then a thick white cloud escaped through her nostrils and mouth before she moved to take another puff. Then her eyes roved up and down Max's frame. 

"So what brought you back to this hickhole? I know it wasn't me." She asked, pocketing the lighter. 

Max opted for blunt honesty than unbelievable lies. 

"You're right, I came back for the photography classes, particularly the professor who teaches it." 

It'd been the first time she thought of Mark that day and was peeved with herself for bringing him up at all.

"You came back for a teacher?" She asked, a twinge of bitterness in her voice. 

"It sounds pathetic when you say it like that . . ." Max muttered, second thinking her choice on being honest. Perhaps Chloe wouldn't have seen through the lie. 

"It _is_ pathetic, Max. Who is this guy that made you return for him and not your old best friend?" 

She couldn't find it in herself to feel bad for Chloe. Of course she hated leaving her, especially right after hearing the devastating news about her father, but it couldn't be helped. She had to leave with her parents to Seattle. 

"He was an uber-famous photographer in the 90s-" 

"So a has-been?" Chloe interrupted.

Max scowled, offended the same way she was with Warren when he failed to place a name to Mark's face. 

"No, he's still famous and popular to this day otherwise Blackwell wouldn't have received so many test scores from various schools all over the US." 

Chloe tilted her head back as she took another long drag of the cigarette, her gaze turned upward to the ceiling. 

"He must be very important to you if you're getting this defensive." She said after extinguishing the flame at the end of the cigarette. 

Max refused to entertain that silly notion. He wasn't important to her, not one bit. Even as she thought it, she knew it was a terrible falsehood. He made an impact on her life with his art and photos, she couldn't deny that, and her crush on him was undeniable.

"Is he hot?" She asked suddenly, causing Max to blush profusely as his alluring image sprung to mind. 

"Well, yeah." She reponded bashfully, looking down to her hands to hide the color of her cheeks. 

Chloe laughed at her reaction as she kicked her feet up on the circular table in front of them. Her blush deepened in embarrassment as she looked around for an item to chuck at Chloe in retaliation. Peering into the trash bin beside her, she saw a lone paper ball inside and reached in to throw it directly at Chloe's head. 

"What the-" She was cut off when the paper hit her nose and she blinked rapidly in response. 

Max erupted into fits of laughter at her reaction and mentally patted herself on the back for not missing. Bending down, Chloe picked up the wadded piece of paper, looking at it questioningly before she slowly unfolded it. Reading the contents scribbled onto the paper, her expression shifted to a variety of different emotions as Max's laughter died down. She stood to hover over Chloe's shoulder to see what was making her so visibly upset. Before she finished reading the long paragraph, Chloe shot up from the chair and bolted right out the door, dropping the paper from her grasp. 

Max stared after her until she disappeared entirely then bent to pick up the paper to finish reading where she left off. According to this secret letter written by Rachel to give to Chloe, it was a confession, of sorts. Whoever this mystery man was, Rachel clearly had the hots for him and was afraid of what Chloe would think of him. As for why, she didn't know and wasn't about to ask. From how angry she looked, it was obviously a sensitive topic. Based off the evidence, Chloe's love must've been unrequited. Max had no idea how deep their relationship was, of course, so it was just an assumption at this point. 

Crumbling the paper back into a ball, she tossed it into the bin before chasing after Chloe who was slamming the door to her truck closed with her inside. She jogged to the passenger's side as quickly as she could and was almost out of breath by the time she got into the vehicle. She made a mental note to participate more in physical education as she slowed her breathing down to a regular pattern. 

Chloe said nothing as she peeled out of the junkyard and onto the dirt road, silent tears streaming down her face, making her eyes bloodshot red. Max kept her lips sealed, a million questions running rampant inside her head. 

"Maybe Rachel ran off with this nameless guy?" She suggested, wanting to fill the silence with _something_ other than Chloe's sniffles. 

"No, I refuse to believe that. Unlike you, she would've told me, she would've kept in contact with me."

Max tilted her head back into the headrest as she exhaled sharply through her nose. It was only a matter of time before she brought that up. 

"I'm sorry. I should've handled that better, but-"

"Save your excuses, Max." She interjected, voice thick with unexpressed emotion. 

Max's shoulders slumped in defeat, a frown marring her face as she turned to gaze out the window. Countless houses, stores, and trees passed her by yet she saw none of it. She was too absorbed into herself; all she could see was a blur of beautiful colors blending together like a painting. Before she knew it, she was staring straight up at Blackwell. Chloe parked the truck right at the curb in front of the steps leading to the fountain - perfect. 

"I may not have been here for you when you needed it, Chloe, but I'm here now. Text me if you ever want to hang out or talk . . it doesn't matter. I'm always available, okay?" 

Chloe didn't look Max's way as she spoke. She gave no indication that she even heard what was said and Max didn't want to press the matter further. If she didn't want to talk with her, then that was fine. Leaning over, she embraced Chloe briefly before hopping out of the truck. 

She heard the truck pull out of the curb as she ascended the steps. There were less students sprawled across the grassy expanse this time around. She could name a few out that she pinpointed like Stella, Brandon, Eric, Nathan, and Juliet. They all sat in different areas except for the trio that Max accompanied yesterday. Stella was beginning to grow too close to those boys and Max sensed something sinister about them the first time they met. She past by them swiftly and they didn't seem to notice her, thankfully. 

Walking by one of Mark's art pieces, Max halted in front of it to admire the imagery and the monochrome filter he used on a lot of his portraits. It showcased a woman, barely clothed with a masculine hand gripping the feminine curve of her shoulder. Her eyes were downcast and her facial expression looked sad as though she didn't appreciate the man gripping her like that. It had an erotic edge that she found herself appreciating. 

"What do you see when you look at this?" A masculine voice said from behind her.

Max jumped up in surprise as she placed a hand over her beating heart, eyes wide in fright. She turned to see Mark standing there, a crooked smile turning one corner of his lips upward. 

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." 

She couldn't form words at that moment for multiple reasons. One, she wasn't expecting to see him until Monday so she was genuinely scared when he sneaked up on her. Two, his presence always made her nervous and three, he was unintentionally intimidating. 

"It's not Halloween yet, Mr. Jefferson." She finally managed to say after swallowing the thick lump in her throat. 

Mark chuckled warmly as he stepped closer, not to her but to the panel where he proceeded to nod towards it. 

"Well, Miss Caulfield? What do you see?" 

Max tore her gaze off from him and onto the photo. She hardly had to think at all before coming up with an answer.

"There's a hint of submissiveness in her stance and a whole lot vulnerability from what we can see in her expression and the clothing she wears, or lack thereof. Although not in the full frame, the male needn't be. His large hand on her shoulder is enough to get the point across that _he_ is in charge, the dominant one." She explained with a shrug before looking back to him. 

"That's what I see. I think it's a beautiful shot. By far my favorite out of the Retrospective catalogue."

Mark was momentarily speechless as he listened to her describe one of his photographs. What had him reeling was her revealing that it was her favorite; many women disliked what the image showed. Modern feminism and all that. 

"Well said, Max." He murmured gently, still amazed at her description of his work. 

A light blush bloomed across her cheeks and Mark felt a violent tug cut deep into his groin. It threw him off guard and he started to make his way to the school in attempt to conceal it.

"Ah, well, I've got to run." He said quickly. "Be seeing you." 

Max couldn't get a word out as he briskly departed, briefcase in hand. 

'What the heck was that about?' She wondered to herself before going the opposite direction to the dorms. 

Maybe now he'd actually _speak_ to her in the mornings like he did just now instead of simply spewing demands. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but she still hoped.


	8. Everyday Hero

It was ridiculous that his body reacted in such a titillating way over seeing something as common as a blush. In the course of his career, he's seen hundreds of girls blush at something he's said or done and it never affected him the way Max's had. He dropped the case he brought beside the doorway to his office as he slammed the door shut. Hurriedly, he shrugged off the blazer and flared out his collar a bit more to cool himself off. It was suddenly hot and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Pressing both of his hands onto the edge of the mahogany desk, he leaned his weight against it and closed his eyes to concentrate on ridding the image of her flushed cheeks from his mind. The red hue looked _exquisite_ on her light skin and he grounded his teeth together when his semi only grew. 

"Fuck," He cursed loudly, reaching up to yank the glasses off from his face. 

_Why_? Why did he feel so attracted to this single girl and not the rest who packed more in terms of the female anatomy? Mark seldom dated and when he did, he wasn't shallow with whom his partner was, so that point was ultimately insignificant to bring up. Sighing, he turned to lean against the desk with his bottom, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. One thing was for certain, he wouldn't be able to keep away from her again like he did last week. It was difficult for him to do so and that made way for doubt, an ugly emotion he rarely felt.

He thought back on how she explained his photograph with such passion and admiration. The sparkle in her eyes, the soft fluctuation of her voice, that _blush_ /. His pants grew tight as his member strained against the confines of his pants and he was nearly tempted to relieve himself here and now if it wasn't for the knock at his door. Picking his glasses up from the desk, he pushed himself off the edge and moved to sit down before allowing whoever was on the other side of the door entry. 

Ray Wells walked in carrying a stack of 'Everyday Heroes' posters to be plastered on every corner of the school to remind students in his class to enter. 

"I could've done that myself, Ray." Mark stated gruffly as he dropped the pile onto the corner of the desk. 

"Yet you didn't." 

He waved the closeted alcoholic away dismissively, not in the mood to speak to him or anyone. Ray didn't obey his silent command. Instead, he leaned over the desk towards him, eyes narrowed. 

"I witnessed that little exchange between you and Miss Caulfield through my office window." 

Mark folded his arms and reclined back in the chair. 

"It's comforting to know that your eyesight isn't going, especially at your age." He spat bitterly. "Did Sean tell you to keep a close on me this year?" 

"After the incident with Miss Amber, yes, he has. He can cover for a lot of things, but murder is not one of them."

"Yeah? Well he can blame his idiotic son for that mistake. My hands are clean." 

Ray exhaled slowly, shaking his head in disapproval. Nothing more was exchanged between the two men as he left the office. Mark's erection was long gone by now, so Ray's visit wasn't _completely_ pointless.

Standing, he grabbed what he originally came here for from the drawer of his desk - several rolls of duct tape - and went to place them into his briefcase that was filled with papers that needed grading. He smoothed down his shirt, placed his blazer back on then left the premises. 

\----

Early Monday morning, Max made her way towards art class, ready to assist. Chloe hadn't contacted her since they last hung out on Saturday so she stayed in on Sunday to catch up on her reading and some homework. She must've still been upset about that letter Max found in the bin and she had every reason to be if Rachel was more than a just a friend to her.

Upon entering the classroom, Max had already begun removing the strap from her book bag off her shoulder and onto a nearby desk. She saw Mark sitting at his desk, typing away at his laptop with a stack of posters beside him. 

"Good morning, Max." He greeted her when he caught sight of her thin frame within his peripheral vision. He'd recognize that physique of hers anywhere. 

"G'morning," She mumbled groggily as if she just rolled out of bed. Mark darted his eyes to her, scrutinizing her head to toe. Dark circles rimmed the bottom half of her eyes and she suffered bedhead from how unkempt her hair appeared. 

"Getting up this early is taking its toll?" He guessed, standing up from his chair to approach her. 

"No, that's not it. I just didn't get much sleep last night." She mumbled tiredly, unaffected at how close he was to her; she was too sleepy to care.

"And why is that?" He probed, peering more closely at her now that he was standing in a better position in front of her. 

The dark purple hue on her pale skin made the color of her eyes stand out significantly and he found the contrast _beautiful_. Her lids grew heavy and she was unable to keep them wide open for too long lest they start to sting painfully in protest. If this was a sneak peek of what was to come, he was going to cherish each passing moment with her in his dark room. When he first saw her, it was a dull yearning but has since transformed quickly into an unshakeable ache. He _needed_ her fully exposed to his lens. Soon. 

"I stayed up all night watching Snapped." 

Seeing the confused expression on his face, she went on to explain that it was a true-crime reality series - a highly addictive one when you're bored with nothing else to do. He was mildly surprised she'd be interested in a show such as that for she didn't strike him as the type to be interested in mystery and murder.

"I . . see. If you want, you can head back to the dorms to catch a few more z's." He offered, secretly hoping she'd decline. 

When she shook her head, he remained neutral, only smiling slightly to show his approval. 

"Very well. I have something for you to do, if you're up for the task." He said as he went back to his desk, slicing the posters in half so she wouldn't struggle with having to carry so many. 

"Always," She said quietly, following after him. 

Mark heard her and was quite pleased with it. Of course, her stance on that was subject to change. By the end of the week, she was going to loathe him, curse his very name and spit cruelties at him in hatred. He usually looked forward to the predictable behavior his subjects showed him, but not with her. She was different. 

"I'd like you to put these up all around the campus," He said, patting the stack to signify what he meant. "Think you can do that?" 

"Of course," 

Max reached out to grab the pile when his hand fell onto hers. Her breath caught in her throat and only released itself from her lips when the warmth of his hand seeped into her bones, soothing her in an unexplainable way. Slowly, she trailed her eyes up to his, all traces of sleepiness fleeing the moment he touched her. 

"Forgive me if this is out of line," He murmured softly to her, his voice like a gentle caress against her skin. "But may I capture you? My number one rule in photography is to always take the shot and I find myself needing to take one of you now." 

She couldn't think of a single word to say when his hand was placed over hers like that, his closeness smothering the very oxygen in the air. She may be overreacting but who wouldn't under Mark Jefferson's soft touch and devouring gaze? 

"I'll take your stunned silence as a yes?" He prodded, his opposite hand going up to brush his thumb across the darkened circle beneath her eye that formed there from the lack of sleep. _Beautiful_. Try as he might, he couldn't keep his hands to himself and it was foolish to attempt not to. If she minded at all, she would've spoken up about it or reported it to the principal and since she did neither of those things, he assumed she enjoyed it as much as he did. She certainly responded appropriately with her body language.

She nodded her head wordlessly and as soon as she did, the hand on hers disappeared. Mark turned his back on her briefly to snag the DSLR camera from where he left it on the shelf beside his desk. After switching the device on and checking its settings and filter, he turned to face her again. Max was as motionless as a statue, still feeling his touch on her even though it was long gone. It was reminiscent of that first day; she didn't think he'd ever do it again and she'd be lying to herself if she said she didn't feel a gush of relief when he did. 

Mark remained silent as he closed the short distance separating them and reached out to brush aside her hair that fell across her face, obscuring it. Max grew self-conscious as she moved her arms up to hug herself, biting the inside of her cheek as her nerves finally kicked in. Being as perceptive as he was, he recognized the growing anxiety rolling off of her by her facial expression and body language she openly conveyed and he sought to remedy that. 

"I look horrible, don't I?" She asked him, a slight tremble in her voice.

"No," He breathed earnestly as he brought the camera up to his face. "You look perfect." 

The flash of the camera startled her and she blinked rapidly in response to it before her face could flush crimson to his words. Mark chuckled as he lowered the camera down. 

"Sorry about that, Max. I figured the flash may wake you up a bit." 

She smiled small, content that he found humor in his own antics. As he examined the picture on the small screen of the camera, Max took that moment to read the contents of the poster. Everyday Heroes photo contest. A student must submit a photo that best represents them and whoever the winner is will win not only exposure, but also a free trip to San Francisco where their photo will be hung at the Zeitgeist Gallery for everyone attending to see. It didn't appeal to her much and she hoped it was optional, not mandatory. 

Mark looked over the photograph, happy with how it turned out. He chose not to use a black and white filter that way the natural colors of her face can truly shine through. That wasn't what he liked most about it though. It was her eyes that reeled him in; large, round and innocent. He could stare at it all day if he wanted. 

"How'd it come out?" Her soft voice broke through his reverie as she moved a little closer to him.

"Have a look." He said as he tilted the camera for her to see. 

Examining the photo he took of her, she was impressed at how well the shot looked; he captured her perfectly and she felt honored to have been photographed by him. 

"Thank you," 

His eyebrows furrowed in question as he looked from the photo to her. She spoke up before he could ask her what for.

"For photographing me. I'm hardly photo-worthy." 

A frown settled onto his full lips when hearing that as he turned the camera off and placed it down on the desk. 

"Don't tear yourself down like that ever again, Maxine." He warned, his voice dropping down in both volume and octave, borderline seething. His smoldering gaze was too much to withstand and she looked away as she blanched, her throat suddenly dry as a desert.

"You are more than worthy." He added more gently this time. 

As she stared blankly off into space, Max was speechless at how much passion was held behind those simple words and for some odd, inexplicable reason, she felt as though they held an underlying meaning, one she couldn't possibly fathom. 

Meanwhile, Mark fought a different battle. He shrugged off the urge to tilt her head towards him so that she could look him in the eye for more than a minute. He didn't like it when she looked away from him, much less, hearing her berate herself. 

When she gazed back up at him, the tightening in his chest subsided, giving way to a sense of tranquility; he _hated_ it. 

"Thank you, Mr. Jefferson. I . . appreciate that." 

A ghost of a smile flitted across his handsome features as he picked the stack of posters from the desk and handed it to her. She took them from his grasp and, as before with the tripod, their fingers brushed against one another only this time, Max didn't shy away from it. His touch was inviting and warm and she's experienced enough of it to yearn for more, as silly as that may sound.

"I expect a photo from you by next Wednesday," He said to her just as she was beginning to turn and head out. 

"What?" She breathed out, hoping she'd misheard him. 

"For the contest," He elaborated. "You read the poster, didn't you?" 

"I-I uhm . ." She stammered, struggling to find the right words. 

He noticed the sudden unease she so visually displayed. How could he not? It was difficult for him to ignore the enlargement of her eyes, the biting of the inside of her lip and how tense her body suddenly became. It was a strangely pleasing sight. 

"I thought it'd be a non-mandatory type of deal." She finally managed to squeak out. 

He smothered down a chuckle by clearing his throat. "Far from. Every student is required to turn in a photo. Whoever fails to do so will receive a zero that makes up 70% of this semesters grade." He explained. 

Max internally swore a string of curse words. Unless she wanted to fail his class, she _needed_ to turn in a photo even though she didn't want to. She didn't have much faith in her work and losing the contest would only lower her self esteem. Out of every negative emotion she felt about this situation, she feared being rejected the most. 

"Oh," Was all she could say. 

Mark gave her a reassuring smile that aided little in calming her frazzled mind. 

"Go on now." He motioned her away politely, his voice velvet soft in encouragement. 

Swallowing hard, she turned and left the classroom to do as he asked. She didn't get far down the hall when she heard Mark call her name from behind. Turning to face the sound, she caught a glimpse of him speed walking towards her. 

"Forgot about this," He said, placing a roll of scotch tape on the pile of posters she held in her hands. 

"Thank you," She mumbled gratefully which earned her a faint smile from him, one she treasured greatly.

Her eyes were glued to him as he retreated back into his classroom, silently admiring his lean back and long strides. Pink lips were parted and she breathed heavily out of them, dreamily.

Choosing to start her task in the hall of trophies, she avoided Principal Wells when he chose that particular moment to step out of the front office. She barely finished taping the first poster up when he came up to her, hands clasped behind his back as usual. 

"Good morning, Max. I see you're putting up the Everyday Hero posters. Tell me, how is your position with Mr. Jefferson faring?" 

Max picked out another poster and walked to the opposite side of the hall further from him. 'Weird how he changed subjects so quickly,' she thought. 

"Quite well." She responded, keeping it short and sweet for fear of giving him some purchase to cling to. 

"Good, good. I'm glad to hear it. He often takes female students under his wing and each of them flourish like a rose in bloom. It's no surprise you are as well." 

Her brow dipped as she speculated what he meant by that, the adhesive from the tape sticking uncomfortably on her fingers. She fumbled with it ever since he made his presence known and the posters were coming out crooked on the boards and walls.  
When she didn't take the bait, Wells tried a different tactic. He stepped up to her and he noticed how her shoulders shriveled up, tense in anticipation. 

"You'll let me know if he oversteps any bounds, won't you?" 

Sticking the final poster for that area to the wall, she finally dared to look at him more so in question than vexation.

"Bounds?" 

"Yes. As I'm sure you know, a teacher and their student cannot be involved with one another under any circumstance, regardless if the student is an adult. There's a non-fraternization policy that strictly prohibits such behavior."

Max couldn't believe what she was hearing. The implications alone were enough to send her into a frenzy, but she couldn't allow him to assume something was there between her and Mark when there wasn't. Or give him the illusion of security. He was the last person she'd go to.

"The only one overstepping his bounds is you, Principal Wells." She stated, delivering the lie perfectly. 

Mark had crossed that line on the first day of school and again this morning in his classroom. The only difference between then with Mark and now with Wells is Max was an unwilling participant. She had no idea why he'd would bring this up to her in the first place and was disturbed at the thought that Mark could have been involved with a student in the past. But if that was true, he would've been fired and not still here teaching. She didn't understand and Wells wanted to keep it that way. His goal was met. He planted the seed of doubt in her brain so now she will think twice before succumbing to Mark's deadly charm. He did this not only to protect himself and the school from scrutiny, but for Sean as well; that man rolled too much money into his bank account for everything to go to shit all because Mark couldn't keep the cap on his lens. Wells knew his intentions and another student couldn't go missing so soon after Rachel Amber. Especially with David Madsen poking his nose in affairs that didn't concern him. He was the only one with his eyes wide open and it would only be a matter of time before he found out the truth unless Mark covered his tracks better than he has in the recent past. 

"You're right, Miss Caulfield. I'm sorry. I'll take my leave now." 

And he did.

Max didn't hang around there for another minute. Having picked up the remaining posters, she took the stairs up to the second floor where the english and math classes were. She mechanically taped the remaining posters along the empty halls, her mind as hollow as the look in her eyes. She couldn't think of anything after that strange experience with the principal. Whatever his intent, it was inapt and unprofessional on his part especially when there was no evidence to support his suspicions. Unless Mark had history with dating students before, Wells wouldn't have gone up to her at all, going on about other females who have assisted him in the past and comparing them to roses. Of course, Wells could just be fucking with her which seemed highly improper for a person in his position as principal to do. The whole thing made her head hurt so she decided to stop thinking of it for now. 

She returned to his classroom to pick up the rest of the posters, hoping and dreading to see Mark at the same time. This time when she walked in, he wasn't seated at his desk nor was he anywhere in the room. Slightly disappointed, she trudged to the desk for the remaining posters only to see the back door behind it ajar with light pouring out. Mark was inside, filing through the cabinets when Max's curious face poked in. 

"Hey, Max. Finished already?" He asked in slight disbelief as he pulled out yet another file and placed it to the side. The place needed organizing and he didn't have the patience for it.

When he didn't receive a reply, he scowled at the numerous amounts of paper in front of him before glancing up at her. He saw her shake that pretty head of hers 'no' to his question; she wasn't finished. But that wasn't the reason why he frowned at her. He hated that she didn't use her voice to answer even the most simplest of questions. If she had a future, she'd need a strong voice to get anywhere in the photographic world. The ideology 'a picture is worth a thousand words' is bullshit and didn't apply to getting one's work out there. 

His face soon smoothed down to a friendly mask. It didn't matter. There was no future of hers worth thinking about since there wasn't one. He was dead set on taking it, after all. 

Exiting the small room, he studied Max's face as he normally did and was irritated to see the distress written all over it, corrupting the purity that he's come to treasure.

"What's up?" He said as casually as he could, leaning one hand on the desk as the other propped itself on his hip. 

Max hated herself for being so expressive whilst Mark wallowed in it with appraisal. It was raw, authentic and he revered it. 

"Nothing. I came to grab the rest of the posters when I saw that door wide open." She motioned towards the door.  
"I always wondered what was inside it." 

He could tell that wasn't the only thing plaguing her mind, but was in no position to pry it out of her, as much as he wanted to.

"Now you know there's nothing remotely interesting in there."

"Not anymore," She agreed then snatched the posters and left as fast she could before he could conjure up a reply. 

Mark caught onto her thinly disguised compliment and smiled to himself, slightly surprised she'd say something so suggestive. Maybe she had a voice after all. 

\----

"You are all required to turn in a photo for the contest since it will count as a major grade. Unless you want to fail, of course, then by all means, ignore me. For those who actually care about this class and their future as a successful photographer, this will prove beneficial in more ways than one." Mark announced to the class during the final few minutes that remained of it.

He was in his usual spot in the center of the room and most, if not, all of his attention was being paid to the females of the class, particularly Max. 

"You'll earn great exposure and it can kickstart your career in photography. The deadline to submit a photo is next Friday and I will be personally overseeing each one to judge. The winner will fly out to San Francisco with yours truly and be fêted by the art world." He continued on, tossing more than a few glances at Max whom he desperately wanted a photo from.

Victoria's head perked up like that of a bird when an enemy drew near and Max rolled her eyes at it. There was no doubt in her mind that Victoria was going to win. Max has seen some of her work on social media and she hated to admit that Victoria had a decent hand at taking photos. Not only that, but she was beautiful, rich, and influential while Max was meek, shy, and insignificant and that will translate to her photographs; not San Francisco - worthy at all. 

It was hard not to think negatively about herself until she reflected back on Mark's words earlier that morning. 

'Don't tear yourself down like that ever again.'

'You are more than worthy.' 

The fresh memory brought a muted smile to her lips as a light blush dusted across the apples of her cheeks. She was doing a horrible job at taking his advice and vowed to herself and him that she'll try. The worst thing that could happen was disappointing him by not participating in this Everyday Hero contest that he seemed to deeply enjoy. Also, failing this early into the year was unacceptable especially in her favorite class. 

"And with that, class is dismissed." Mark finished just as the bell rung. 

Max gathered her belongings and looked up to see Kate rushing out the door. She's been meaning to speak to her ever since Stella mentioned how she felt about the position that was 'taken' from her. Shaking her head, she resumed her ministrations by placing her school supplies in her bag; she'll just have to speak to Kate some other time.

The class emptied out by the time she finished. It was even absent of Mark as he disappeared back into that room again. What she bravely stated that morning will forever haunt her. How she gained the courage to say something so blatant was a mystery and she was embarrassed for having said it at all. She swiftly went out the door and into the safety of the crowded halls where she could blend in and vanish.


	9. Deadly Weapon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh this story is a mess. But yes, a little more than a week later, an update!

Tuesday morning, Max and her other classmates in Mrs. Hoida's English AP class were in the library, some working tirelessly on their book assignments while others slacked off and played brainless video games on the computer. Max fell into the realm betwixt these two things by doing something academic but not at all related to English literature. 

She sat at a table furthest from everyone with only photography books scattered about keeping her company. With the contest in tow, she wanted to learn as many tips and techniques as she could to provide the best shot she could capture. Bruce Barnbaum's ' The Art of Photography ' and Michael Freeman's ' The Photographer's Eye ' were significant enough to make an impression on her to jot down notes for future use.

Between those books and several others, she also dabbled into Susan Sontag's ' On Photography ' and one thing stuck out to her in particular. How she described the comparison between a gun and a camera, how similar they were in terms of aiming and shooting, among other things. 

It read as such:

❛ There is something predatory in the act of taking a picture. To photograph people is to violate them by seeing them as they never see themselves, by having knowledge of them that they can never have. It turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed. Just as a camera is the subliminalization of a gun to photograph someone is subliminal murder. A soft murder, appropriate to a sad frightened time. ❜

It was beautifully described and Max understood the message clearly. While she couldn't relate to it personally as she took photographs to escape and not dominate, she knew of a few photographers who fell into that category and their work happened to impress her the most. 

As the substitute teacher made her rounds through the library, Max ducked behind a shelf with the books in hand, fearful of getting caught tending to a subject that wasn't English AP. She was too busy looking over her shoulder that she collided unexpectedly into a sturdy mass. It nearly knocked her over and she would've fallen right on her bottom if a large hand hadn't snatched her upper arm to straighten her back to her feet. 

"Sorry," She apologized quietly, clutching the books tightly to her chest as she stared at the male's black clad chest.  

"Should've let your ass fall after you denied my hospitality so rudely." Brandon's deep baratone voice filled her ears. 

A tinge of humor laced his words that was easily overshadowed by the anger that sizzled to the surface upon seeing her again. Max glowered at him as she brushed past, now in much need of a shower after being touched by such scum. 

"Get over it." She shot back at him and he would've called out after her if they weren't in the library where even the softest of whispers could be heard. 

So instead, he lashed out by plucking out the first book her saw and chucking it at her backside. The corner of it jabbed into her shoulder blade and she hissed in both pain and shock as she whirled around to see Brandon there, fuming with undiluted fury. Max wanted to laugh at how sensitive he was and _reveal_ in how easy it'd been to deflate his precious ego. She didn't lest that attract attention and decided to throw a book right back at him. She did it so fast that Brandon hardly had time to react and it cracked right against his high cheekbone. He yelped from the sting and Max disappeared through the throng of shelves to rid herself him. 

The area on her shoulder blade where the book had hit was already beginning to ache and she knew there was going to be a bruise there tomorrow; she bruised like peach and was once compared to one literally due to how 'soft and sweet' she was. 

A safe distance away from Brandon and the rest of the class, Max stuffed the remaining books she held on a shelf titled under 'mystery' and lingered there until the bell finally rung, freeing her from that silent prison. She gathered up her bag and chose to sling it over one shoulder instead of across her chest as normal since she didn't want to irritate the developing bruise on her back. 

Mark didn't require her services that morning, so she'd be entering his room for the first time that day and was one of the only students who would arrive earlier than expected. Most students hung around the halls talking to their friends between periods, but Max wasn't like most students and that's what drew Mark to her like a moth to a flame. 

He stood outside his door, ready to greet whoever was in his class and ignoring the girlish catcalls from behind him as Max came strolling by, still timid as ever even in the way that she walked.

"Hey, Max. How you doin'?" 

She shrugged, unknowingly bringing attention to the strap on her shoulder. His eyes narrowed a fraction; she never carried her bag like that. 

"Alright," She mumbled in reply, eyes downcast to her feet. 

She was far from alright and anyone with decent eyesight could see that. Those dark circles under her eyes hadn't gone away and her skin took on a sickly, ashen appearance. She couldn't get sick now, not when he was nearly ready to capture her.

"I'd like to speak with you after class." He said in a much quieter tone and she looked up at him, perplexed. 

"Am I in trouble?" 

Despite himself, he smiled and shook his head. 

"No," He reassured and witnessed her exhale in relief through her freckled-dotted nose. 

When she nodded her head in understanding, he gestured for her to enter and she did so without another word. Ever watchful, he saw how she lifted her arm to reach out to her back, her fingers gently gliding over one specific spot that seemed to pain her since her body tensed when she touched it. _That_ was the reasoning behind the foreign way she held her bag; she'd been hurt. He made a mental note to ask about that after class was over before refocusing his attention on yet another approaching student. 

Kate Marsh had her hands outstretched towards him, a photograph cradled within. 

"Here's my photograph for the contest." She proudly sang, presenting it to him. 

Mark took and examined it closely. The picture illustrated a brave firefighter pulling a blanket around a fear-stricken child as his mother figure held onto him either to ward off his fears or to soothe herself knowing that he was safe. It could be interpreted a variety of different ways and that was the beauty of art. 

"You're the first to enter a photo, Miss Marsh. Thank you. I can't say anything in regards to it as of now, but know that Blackwell appreciates this greatly, even if it is mandatory."

A bashful smile sprung to her face. 

"Thank you, Mr. Jefferson. I'm so grateful for the opportunity to put my work out there, but even if I don't win, someone else will and I'll wish them the best all the same." 

He grinned at her optimism and decency. Not many her age would think the same. 

"You are quite thoughtful," He observed, earning a small appreciative smile from her.

Their conversation was cut short when Daniel drew near and Kate gravitated to her desk by the window, sharing a silent exchange with Max who she hasn't spoken to since her first day at Blackwell. Kate was religious and wholeheartedly believed in forgiveness, but she wasn't quite there yet with Max who stole something that was meant for _her_ right under her feet.

Max read Kate's body language like a book and decided against talking to her at that moment. It was clear she still held a grudge and Max didn't want to make a scene in a place like this especially with Mark standing only feet away. 

Class commenced as usual. Mark was stationed at his favorite spot in front of Max, his eyes darting from Taylor and Victoria to Max and Kate until he'd stand to move around the room, keeping himself mobile as he lectured on colors, light, and shadows. 

"Can you give me an example of a photographer who perfectly captured the human condition in black and white?" 

The first person who came to Max's mind was Jeffrey Conley, but he was a landscape photographer - a brilliant one, at that - and that wasn't what Mark was asking. 

Victoria raised her hand and blurted, "Diane Arbus." 

"There you go, Victoria!" He praised. "Why Arbus?" 

"Because of her images of hopeless faces. You feel, like, totally haunted by the eyes those sad mother's and children." 

She had a point there. Max has seen a collection of Arbus' work and the powerful emotion captured within transcended from the photograph to anyone who looked at it. While she didn't feel 'haunted' by it, she did feel a faint stir and she wouldn't describe it as 'haunting'; 'fascinating' is the term she'd use.

"She saw humanity as tortured, right? And frankly it's bullshit."

A collection of gasps sounded from behind him, drawing his attention.

"Shsh sh, keep that to yourself." He hushed them before turning his eyes onto Kate. 

"Seriously though, I could frame any one of you in a dark corner," He roved his penetrating gaze onto Max, tearing down any barriers she may have held up to keep other's from seeing the real her. 

"and capture you in a moment of desperation." 

Her lips parted and her stomach jumped up to her throat. 

"And any one of you could do that to me. Isn't that too easy? Too obvious?" He continued on, looking away from her. 

He held too much intensity in those eyes for her to bear and she didn't know why he insisted on staring at her like that at all. It was only her, no one else. 

Mark wrapped up his lecture by explaining the beginning of what the world now calls a 'selfie'. The Daguerreian Process, something Victoria already knew about and arrogantly showed off that knowledge when he queried about it. 

Max stayed behind as per Mark's request to speak with her after class was over and remained seated as Victoria followed him back to his desk. She leant over it suggestively, apparently turning her photo for the contest in whilst trying to talk her way out of doing homework. Patient as ever, he explained it still needed to be done as he tucked her photo into a red folder where Kate's was stored. 

"Thank you for the photo, Miss Chase. Hopefully more students will follow your lead." He said to her, throwing a subtle glance up at Max who was nose-deep into a copy of his book, ' Capturing The Image '. 

Victoria had a smug smile painted across her glossed lips that screamed self-righteousness and entitlement; it was hideous. 

Dismissing further conversation, Victoria reluctantly left him behind, unaware that he wasn't being left alone. Mark refrained from calling Max over as he went to close the door in case anyone walked by. He wanted as much privacy as he could have and went as far as to close the blinds of his classroom as well so no one walking by outside could look in. Max grew a tad bit uneasy as she slowly closed the book and gripped it to her chest, similar to the way she had earlier in the library. 

When he was finished with that, he silently beckoned her forward as he stood by the drawn window. She avoided eye contact as she slowly closed the distance between them and flinched when his hand shot out to her. He paused to take in her reaction, blinking rapidly in surprise. 'Perhaps I moved too quickly?' He assumed, resuming his action by pressing the back of his hand against her forehead. No fever. 

"Talk to me, Max." He urged, dropping his hand down to his side. 

She didn't know what to say. He was concerned enough about her to check her temperature, but she knew it was wrong. All of his innocent touches and caresses were wrong yet she craved for it all the more. 

"What do you want me to talk about?" She asked him, unsure of what this whole thing was about. 

"For starters, I'd like to know what was bothering you yesterday that you continue to not voice." 

Max gave him a confused expression, one he refused to buy. 

"It's still bothering you, I can tell." He added as he crossed his arms taut over his chest. 

She balmed her drying throat by swallowing thickly and looked down to her worn converse. It was silly attempting to hide anything from him; he was a professional photographer and photographers were adept at reading facial expressions and body language - their careers relied on it, depending. 

When she didn't speak, he sucked in a deep breath and stepped closer to her, refraining from taking hold of her chin and yanking it up so she'd look up at him. 

" _Talk_ to me." He demanded, harshly this time. 

Max bristled, loathing the unbridled displeasure in his voice and a strong part of her yearned to ease him down from his angry perch.

"The principal told me something yesterday morning that bothered me." She started, daring to look him in the eye. Seeing the patience swimming within those chocolate pools encouraged her to continue. 

"He said something about a non-fraternization policy, how you had many other female assisting you in class in the past and to report to him if you overstep any bounds. It was . . . weird. I still can't make sense of it." 

Mark cursed at Ray for doing something so foolish. What the fuck was he thinking? More than a few moments past with only their breathing audible between them. He knew what Ray was trying to do, to get Max to question and doubt, to keep her distance from the hipster teacher. What he didn't know was Mark's determination. Even if Max did decide to cut herself off from him, he'd still pursue her.

"Would you?" He finally said, his calm voice slicing through the awkward silence. 

"I haven't yet, have I?"

They stared at one another, neither of them saying anything. Each one scrutinized the other's face, scouring it as though committing it to memory. 

"And why haven't you?" Mark drawled out huskily, unable to keep either of his hands away from her.

They moved up to her face and he hesitated for only a second until her lids fluttered closed in submission. She allowed his hands to cup her pallid cheeks and sighed contently when his thumbs ran over the freckles that scattered along the top of them. His experienced hands were warm and addictively inviting, delicate in their pursuit to graze every inch of her face. His left hand wound its way to the back of her skull as his right trailed down to gently grip at her throat. Her head tilted back indulgently, granting him further access and a groan of gratitude he couldn't suppress clawed its way to the surface as the bulk of his hand almost wrapped around her throat completely. Her rapid pulse thudded beneath his hand like the beat of a drum, the pads of his fingers gliding over the pressure points that could knock her unconscious if given the right amount of compression. In days time, a cold sharp needle was going to puncture this smooth throat of hers and the alluring image forced his pupils to dilate. 

Max couldn't find her voice when he touched her like that. Not that the answer would help matters; he _had_ to know why and ever since that discussion with Wells, she doubted she was the first student he's done this with. 

That thought made her eyes shoot open. She pulled away from him and heard a dissatisfied growl rumble in his throat. Her skin had been soft beneath his fingertips, so smooth and welcoming. She practically glowed under his touch and it was one of the most gorgeous things he has ever witnessed in his thirty-eight years of life. 

"I don't know," She lied, adjusting the strap of her bag. 

Mark decided against pressing her on that subject any further. He already knew why; he only wanted to hear her _say_ it, but lunch only lasted for so long and he needed to address the reasoning behind her bag. 

"I'm going to pretend to believe that lie of yours and ask you something else," He began nonchalantly. "What happened to your back?" 

"My . . back?" She mumbled, subconscious. He couldn't have been there in the library, could he? The pain in her back suddenly flared to life from the abrupt turn of conversation.

"Don't play coy, Maxine. What's wrong with it?" 

There was no hiding from this man; he saw everything. Even if she tried to lie, he'd see right through it. What was the harm in telling the truth anyway? He was just a teacher and the only thing he could do was reprimand Brandon and send him off to the principal for proper punishment. 

"Someone threw a book at me in the library this morning and it hit my back, that's it." 

Mark's hands clenched at his sides in fury, those same hands that had caressed her face so softly only moments ago. Max noticed this and a delightful chill coursed up and down her spine. He cared. Why did he care so much for her wellbeing? She may never know.  
Seconds later, Mark forced himself to regain most of his composure before speaking again. He didn't want her to hear the anger in his voice.

"Who?" He grounded out roughly.

"Brandon,"

"Last name?" 

"I don't know his last name," She revealed sheepishly. 

It didn't matter. He'll dig for more information on his own time. For now, he was more concerned for her when an obvious question came to mind. 

"Why would he throw a book at you?"

She shrugged one of her shoulders carelessly. The details were miniscule to the bigger picture. 

"I must have provoked him somehow." 

He found that hard to believe, but didn't question her any further. He yearned to inspect the area that was damaged in that boy's needless rage, to see if the skin there was as discolored as it was underneath her eyes. She needed to treat herself better and be more careful.

"I imagine it hurts." 

"A little," She confided truthfully, sparking a match of anger within him again that he hastily hid behind a heavy sigh.

"Very well," He said, closing the discussion and moving from her towards the door. "That's all I wanted to know. Thank you for being . . . open, with me. I'll see to it that this Brandon character is punished accordingly for harming another student on school grounds while _you_ try and get a decent amount of sleep tonight, cool?" 

Max wordlessly nodded her head as she stepped up to the door he threw open. It was his duty to look after his students and it was foolish for her to think there was something more hidden beneath his actions. But his anger towards Brandon couldn't be explained as anything other than true hostility and neither could it explain why he paid extra attention to her and not others, why he touched her the way he did knowing that it wasn't right. She didn't know what she had that had him pull to her like a magnet, but she was glad for it, whatever it was, and it could only go down from there. 

When she moved to leave the room, he blocked the exit with his body, brown eyes peering down at her expectantly. 

"Speak, Max. Use your voice." He coaxed her tenderly.

She opened her mouth, but no words would come out so he assisted her. 

"You've looked tired these past two days. Retire early tonight and rest, alright?" 

Again, she nodded and vocally muttered her understanding since that was what he wanted. Satisfied, he let her go. Max walked down the hall sluggishly, feeling his eyes on her the entire time until she disappeared behind the corner. Will there ever be a time when her muscles _didn't_ turn to jelly and her voice _didn't_ falter when she was alone in his presence? Probably not, at least not anytime soon. 

With a shaky exhale, she stumbled into the girl's bathroom to recollect herself. She could still feel his touch on her face and the fury that radiated off of him when she spoke of Brandon. He didn't like that she'd been hurt nor when she stayed quiet to his demands. Mark Jefferson was an enigma that Max couldn't decipher and it frustrated her to no end. 

Looking at her reflection in one of the many mirrors lining across the tiled wall, she winced, wondering how on earth Mark could put his hands on something so unappealing. The dark circles rimming around her eyes made them appear sunken in like a skull and her skin had a chalky white complexion to it. She looked lifeless from lack of sleep and proper intake of food and liquids. The last full meal she had was last Friday when she went with Warren and everyone else to the Two Whales diner. Since then, she's nibbled here and there at the cafeteria's stale lunch menu and munched on cookies her mother gave her for her 18th birthday. Other than that, nothing. 

Checking the time on her phone, lunch was drawing to a close, so she wouldn't have time to eat even if she was hungry, which she wasn't. To revitalize herself, she turned the facet on in front of her and splashed cold water on her face. The icy liquid bit into her pale flesh, stunning her momentarily. Other than the frigid cold, it felt refreshing on her skin. She repeated the action two more times when she heard the door to the restroom creak open. 

"Max Cockfield, what're you doing in the _girl's  
_ restroom?" She heard a disdainful masculine voice sneer.

She looked up to see Nathan waltzing inside casually as though he owned the place which, after some thought, he technically did. 

"I could ask the same thing of you, Nathan _Presnot_." She mumbled behind her hands as they wiped droplets of water off from her face.

He snorted, shutting the door behind him. Max took a small step back, mentally preparing herself for a fight if it came down to that. He had no valid reason for being here unless he intended to do her harm. She couldn't think of any other cause.

"'Presnot'? That's the best you could come up with?" 

Max shrugged, folding her arms in front of her. 

"At the moment." 

He shook his head, a wry smile planted firm on his lips as he walked further in to lean against the sink closest to the door. 

"Whatever. I'm not here for you, so beat it." 

What was it with light-haired colored males telling her to scram? Nathan's dismissal of her was reminiscent of the guy with the RV demanding her to 'fuck off'. Just like then, she was stubborn and didn't move a muscle. Nathan tilted his head down, completely ignoring Max as he muttered under his breath. She caught the words 'own' and 'blow'; everything else sounded like jibberish.

"I'm serious, Max. Leave." He snarled, his previous cold tone morphing to steel and for a split second, she considered it. His slouched position over the sink made it impossible to gauge out his facial expression, but she imagined it looked strained.

"I will, but only if you tell me what you're doing here."

"You're trying to bargain? With _me_?" He asked in disbelief, his body fully facing her with his hands clenched tightly at his sides. 

She took another tentative step back, her breath growing shallow as her eyes scanned him from head to toe. He looked like he was ready to pounce on her from his stance and the anger written on his face. Not in the mood to quarrel, she raised her hands defensively. 

"Alright, you don't want to tell me. Fine, I'll go even though I'm _allowed_ to be here while you're not." 

Sucking in a deep breath, she moved to round him when his arm darted out, effectively blocking her. Panic seized her limbs, rendering them useless as she stilled beside him. His head was turned downward, eyes closed with his shoulders heaving as he took slow, measured breaths of air. 

"No. You wanted to know why I'm here, I'm going to show you. Hide behind that stall." He pointed towards the one furthest from where they stood and she felt him nudge her forward by the shoulder.

Max recovered from her mini panic attack and willingly staggered away from him.

"I'm really not that curious," She insisted, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there. 

"Get behind that fucking stall, Max, and don't say a goddamn word, got it?" He barked loudly at her to get his point across. 

When she refused to listen, he stalked up to her and physically grabbed her by the jacket, dragging her behind the blue stall that separated the toilets from where the cleaning supplies were stored. An unexplainable thrill of excitement shot through her from the aggressive act and she immediately grew ashamed of it. Was there a deep part of her that _liked_ being manhandled by an assertive male figure? She needed to see a shrink. 

"Don't move," He warned her. 

She felt her heart thudding violently in her chest with her back flush against the stall, listening in on the sound of the restroom door opening just as Nathan disappeared from her line of vision. 

"So what do you want?" She heard him say aloud.

The sounds of footsteps approaching followed by the squeaking of the stall doors opening was all she heard until an all too familiar voice rose above all of that. It was the last thing Max expected to hear. 

"I hope you checked the perimeter as my step-ass would say. Now, let's talk bidness." 

"I got nothing for you." Nathan spat out as he turned his back on the blue-haired punk, his hands gripping the cold porcelain sink to steady his building fury.

"Bullshit. You got hella cash." 

Max poked her head out from behind the stall to see Chloe talking shit to Nathan's face, shoving him forcefully for no apparent reason other than to exert her frustrations. Drugs, money, and blackmail. She should've guessed the new Chloe to involve herself in such dangerous affairs and with Nathan Prescott, of all people. 

When she saw him brandish a silver gun that glistened in the pale florescent light, Max gasped and covered her mouth to silence it as he pushed Chloe up against the wall, the barrel of the deadly weapon digging uncomfortably into her abdomen. 

"I am so _sick_ of people trying to _control_ me!" He wailed, his voice dripping with emotional pain and rage. 

Moving away from the edge of the stall, Max took in her surroundings in search for something to subdue him with. There was a mop nearby that seemed useful of that effect and she reached for it where her eyes slid just beside it at a fire alarm. Impulsively, she pushed the mop aside and rammed her elbow into the glass hard enough for it to shatter. A shard pierced through her thin jacket and into her skin as the alarm blared loudly overhead.

Nathan instantly responded to the sound, looking over his shoulder at the stall Max was hidden behind. "No way," He breathed.

Chloe kneed him in the stomach then shoved him away from her. He fell onto his side, arms wrapping around his aching abdomen as she loomed over him like his father did. He kept his gaze glued on the tiled floor, trying his best to avoid seeing her stand over him like that, like _she_ was in control.

"Don't _ever_ touch me again, freak!" She yelled at him before escaping the restroom, unscathed. 

With Chloe gone, Max stepped out from the alcove she was forced into and carefully approached Nathan while simultaneously tugging the glass out from her elbow. She tossed it carelessly to the side as if it was nothing while he slowly climbed back up to his feet, snatching the gun from the floor. 

"Another shitty day," He muttered to himself, tucking the weapon into the folds of his sweater. 

He hardly acknowledged Max as he left the restroom, but she could've sworn she saw a smidgen of gratitude flash across his face. Or maybe that was a trick of the light. Whatever the truth, if she hadn't pulled the alarm, he probably would have shot Chloe and that was a crime even his father couldn't get him out of. 

As she exited the restroom, she idly wondered what model Nathan's gun was when David Madsen appeared out of nowhere, glaring at her accusingly. Max braced herself for an onslaught of scolding that he was too eager to dish out after their first confrontation at the Price household.

"Should've known I'd see you here skulking around, Caulfield. Are you deaf? Do you not hear that alarm?" He stepped closer to her, clearly trying his hand at intimidation that he was failing miserably at.

"All I hear is a grown ass man talking down to a teenager over baseless assumptions and crippling paranoia." 

His mustache twitched as he opened his mouth to spew something right back at her just as Wells appeared from the front office, ordering David to lay off and tend to his job. He didn't leave without giving Max one final glare. It was laughable to her. She's seen a frightening heated glare in the past and David missed the mark tremendously.

With him stomping off, Max made her way to exit through the set of double doors, but didn't get far. She anticipated Principal Wells to stop and question her even though she appeared cool and fine. 

"You seem preoccupied, Miss Caulfield. Is everything all right?" He started, eyeing her carefully. 

'Reporting Nathan would be the right thing to do, wouldn't it?' She asked herself as she stared blankly out ahead of her. The line between right or wrong was relatively thin and often blurred at the edges. What was right to her would be wrong to someone else. In the end, none of it mattered. Wells had no power here, only a title.

"Everything's fine." She said simply and walked away, eager to get to her dorm for much needed rest.


	10. His Gaze

Try as she might, Max could not go to sleep. She used every remedy she could think of before giving up completely at around ten o' clock. She didn't know what it was that made her restless, the painful bruise on her back given to her by Brandon, Nathan's threatening gun she saw earlier that day or Mark's soft gaze and touch that made more of an impact on her than anything else combined. 

It was around that time when she decided to take a quick shower to contemplate the events she experienced with Chloe, Nathan, Brandon, and Mark over the course of half a week. She'd been dismissed so readily by most of them except Brandon who gave her the creeps. That is, until recently. 

Mark has since shown her a completely different side to him. No longer detached like that first week of school, he insisted upon her, praised her, and yes, she could go as far as thinking that he even _admired_ her just as she admires him. Perhaps not as much, but she'll take what she can get. Nothing else could explain the lingering glances they shared during class or the gentle touches he bestowed upon her as though she were as fragile as glass. He was magnetic and Max was but a piece of helpless metal. He dazzled her with a charming smile, beguiled her with his soft words, and smothered her with a fondness she didn't think she deserved. 

Soap and shampoo cascaded through her wet hair and down her slick body as she tilted her head back under the spray of warm water, eyes closed in bliss at the delightfully haunting thought of Mark soaring high through her mind. The others all but faded into a distant part of it. 

A sharp pain jolted her out of her pleasant reverie as she looked down to her elbow. Bubbles from the soap collected where the cut from the fire alarm glass embedded itself. In its place was a mean, angry red line that went deep enough to agitate her. She rinsed it off with a low groan and turned the water off thereafter. It had begun to grow cold and she was already squeaky clean.  

Wrapping a fluffy white towel around her thin frame, she emerged from out of the steaming shower stall to see Kate standing there, facing the mirror with a toothbrush in hand. She scrubbed her teeth harshly at the sight of Max and it was obvious as to why.

Max greeted her anyway with a sweet and simple, "Hi, Kate." 

Spitting into the sink and rinsing her mouth, she turned to face Max with a frown. 

"So you're Mr. Jefferson's assistant now, huh?"

Max hesitated for a moment. _I've been his assistant for a while now, almost two weeks and Kate still isn't over it? Insert groan here._

Kate took Max's pause as indifference and bitterly spat, "What'd you have to do to steal that position from me, Max? Did you suck him off?" 

Max's eyes bulged from surprise until the image of her mouth on Mark's member flooded her mind, shooting a weird pleasurable jolt to her lower abdominal area. Her face flushed red and she had to steady herself on a nearby sink to keep her legs from buckling. 

_Wow._

"Oh, Max, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean - ugh." Kate covered her face briefly before sighing and shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I'm just so upset. You knew _I_ was supposed to be his assistant and it was somehow pulled out from under me and I-" 

"Wait," Max somehow found her voice amidst the heady haze that image had conjured up. "How do you even know about this? Did he . . tell you?" 

Kate nodded then explained, "Yes. I asked why I wasn't his assistant anymore and he told me he found someone else, someone more 'qualified', as he put it which doesn't make any sense to me. I pressed him for more details and he mentioned you by name."

Her voice sounded so defeated, but Max couldn't focus on any of that right now. She was more concerned on why he'd bring her name up at all under the pressure of a mere student. _He_ was the authoritative one. How could he let Kate pry information out of him like that? 

"Well," Max said after a long while of silence. "I don't know what to tell you other than, _no_ , I didn't suck his cock and sorry, I don't know what I did to take what was originally meant to be yours. Maybe he's biased and prefers brunettes to blondes?"  

It was a joke, but Kate wasn't laughing. She was crestfallen and utterly deflated. 

"Whatever the reason, it's done. Hope you're enjoying it." She mumbled as she brushed past Max, arms crossed over her chest and shoulders slumped. 

Max waited there in the showers for a minute then made her way back to her room. She felt a little bad for Kate. Only a little. Not enough to deny what Mark has already given to her, a place by his side.

────────────────────────

The sun was barely rising out of the puffy white clouds as Max crossed the threshold that split between the dorms and school on a chilly Wednesday morning. She received an email from Mark late into the night to arrive at his classroom around 8:30 am. It was 8:25 by the time she reached his door and knocked out of courtesy before stepping inside. Mark wasn't there, but there was evidence of his presence on his desk. The keys to the room were there along with his camera and laptop.

Being the nosey little creature she was, Max rounded the desk until she was facing the laptop and peered at the screen. Nothing all that interesting caught her eye and just as she was beginning to lean away, she heard the door to the room creak further open and jerked her head in that direction to see Mark standing there, cups of joe in both his hands. 

"Good morning, Max. You're here right on time, as usual." He observed as he approached, stretching one of the smaller cups towards her. "For you, a small sugary token for everything you've done thus far. I couldn't ask for a better assistant." He praised with a close-mouthed grin. "I didn't know what you liked so I opted for a French vanilla cappuccino." 

Max's lips parted in delight as a smile sprung to life there, her tiny hands going up to encircle the width of the warm cup. His words meant more to her than he'd ever know.

"Whoa, thank you." She said in earnest, smiling brightly up at him and brought the edge of it to her lips. 

To keep himself from looking at her pursed lips close around the tiny hole of the lid, Mark turned his attention elsewhere towards his laptop. She'd been peering at it. Nosey. 

"How's your . . ?" He trailed off, making a gesture towards his back. 

It took a moment to realize what he was referring to and snickered at herself for not understanding sooner. 

"It's fine, thank you. Rings with pain from time to time if I move a certain way but overall, I'm all good." 

Mark frowned slightly. She shouldn't be feeling _any_ pain. 

Finding out the exact kid who was the source of causing Max's pain wasn't difficult. While there were plenty of Brandons that went to Blackwell, only one stuck out to him as being the culprit in harming his future muse. 

Brandon Shultz, a seventeen year old male with a track record of being a total nuisance to faculty and staff. Disciplinary referrals, complaints from teachers, overdue library book fines, damage to school property. The list was endless. He was similar to Nathan only he didn't have a rich father to help get him out of trouble. 

Mark would be doing the whole school a favor by getting rid of him and that's exactly what he did. Only he didn't do it for Blackwell. Having tracked down the license plate number on his student file, he broke into Brandon's obnoxious truck late last night to plant a generous amount of illegal drugs inside solely for Max. 

Gazing at her now, she looked more healthy and vibrant. The color returned to her face and lips and the bags beneath her eyes vanished. It's amazing what a bit of sleep can do to the human body. 

After taking a few sips of her cappacino, Max cleared her throat and stated out of the blue, "You demand, I deliver." 

He blinked, eyebrows furrowing at the cryptic statement. 

"I'm sorry?" 

She giggled, hiding her contagious smile behind the coffee cup. 

"You heard me, Mr. Jefferson." 

There she goes again, challenging him. Only this time, Mark wasn't having a bar of it. Placing his cup down, he placed a hand to his hip with the other curled into a fist on his desk. 

"No, I don't think I did, Max. What did you say?" 

Fear immediately ceased her. As usual, she avoided his overbearing ardent gaze as she shifted from one foot to the other. She shouldn't have said anything. It was needless and incredibly redundant. He was her teacher so of course she had to listen to him. Listening and obeying your superiors came with being a student, after all. 

"Uhm . ." She hesitated, taking an involuntary step back. 

Mark's teeth clenched tightly at her looking away from him _again_. It took more than internal strength to keep himself from taking hold of her jaw and _forcing_ her to look him in the eye for more than a few seconds. 

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she straightened her back, lifted her chin and stared up at him as confidently as she could. 

"You demand," She started slowly as he inched his head a tad bit closer to her own. "I deliver." 

A moment passed. Two. It felt like an eternity to her.

"Really." He responded finally, darkly. It wasn't a question. 

Unable to look into his eyes for any longer, Max tore her gaze away from him and exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding. 

Like her, he wasn't able to help himself either; from touching her like he had yesterday. With his hand stretching slowly out toward her, a knock at the door drew them both out from each other and to the sound where Raymond Wells stood, hands clasped behind him. Mark instantly dropped his arm down to his side.

"It's quite early for you to be here, Max. Earlier than usual, anyway." He noted. 

"I - ah . . I'm here to assist Mr. Jefferson before class as per the norm." She said, throwing a fleeting glance at Ray over her shoulder. 

"What would you like me to do today?" She asked Mark, looking back to him expectantly. 

He was glaring daggers at the principal for the interruption before she turned back to face him. His face smoothed down to an impassive expression as he glanced down to her. 

"Uh . . clean this." He said, briefly tapping the top of his camera to signify what he meant. "I'll be right back." 

Moving past her, he joined with Raymond in the hall, Max eyeing his movements until he disappeared from view. 

Looking back to the camera, she was a little confused why he'd task her with something that didn't exactly pertain to the class as a whole. Shrugging it off, she did as she was told. The device felt heavy in her hands and extremely expensive. Of course he'd be able to easily afford such a beauty. 

────────────────────────

"This is getting out of hand, Mark." Ray admonished with a disapproving shake of his head.

Mark chuckled as the two men walked further down the hall to keep Max from possibly eavesdropping. "Disappointed that your little pep talk the other day didn't work?" 

The older male nearly cringed.

"She told you about that?" He questioned in slight disbelief.

"Not at first. I had to coax it out of her."

Of course he did for who could deny a handsome face and a handful of honeyed words?

"Agh, _Mark._ You're treading into dangerous waters again with Miss Caulfield just like you did with Miss Amber."

He was never going to live down Rachel's death, but that wasn't what bugged him. The man was treating him like a child and it was getting ridiculous. He may be Sean Prescott's eyes and ears within the school, but that didn't give him power over Mark. He knew what he was doing. 

Choosing to ignore the 'Amber' bit, he scoffed. 

"Are you serious? She's just another student." Even as the words left his mouth, he knew it was a lie. There was something in Max Caulfield that drew him to her and it was more than just her innocence. He didn't know what it was yet, but he intended to find out.

Ray said nothing as Mrs. Hoida came walking through the front doors to the foyer where the two men were. Once she disappeared from view, Mark swapped topics from Max to the little shit named Brandon. The ball in ridding him from school and going near Max again was already in place, it just needed a gentle push to get it rolling. 

"By the way, I think we need a police dog to sweep the campus, particularly the parking lot. I've heard rumors regarding a certain student dealing drugs there. Blackwell must contain its excellence, right?" 

Ray cocked a dark brow at him, allowing the change of subject since drugs on campus was a serious matter. If information like this leaked to the public, Blackwell's name would be tarnished along with the Prescott's and that wouldn't be good for anyone. 

"Is that so?" 

Mark nodded wordlessly. 

"Very well, I'll look into this matter and call up the department for one of their hounds." 

"Excellent. Now are we done here?" He asked, already moving away from Ray, eager to return to his classroom, to Max.

Ray dismissed him with a curt nod. Even if he'd said no, the man was going to do whatever he wanted, with or without anyone's approval. Thankfully, Mark wasn't _completely_ insane. He knew how to be subtle.

────────────────────────

Entering the room, he saw Max standing in front of the computer, clicking away at it diligently.

The camera he asked her to clean was in a different position on his desk and upon closer inspection, he noticed the memory card was missing.

Looking back up at her, he saw an unmistakeable mischievous glint in her eye even from his position beside his desk. 

Before he could question what the hell she was doing, she said, "I took the liberty of setting up the development of the class photos you took that first day." 

She scooted off to the side to make some room for him as he moved around the table to face the computer screen. It was an impulsive decision on her part, taking a piece of his property and doing with it what she wanted. Albeit, her intentions weren't malicious in any way, but the action itself was thoughtless. It was a character flaw she's had for a while now and it was almost as bad as her nosiness. Or says her mother. 

"I figured you were going to at some point. Why else would you take them?" 

It may not look like it on the surface, but Max was struggling to keep her voice steady. The sweat quickly forming along her palms didn't help matters and neither did her frantically beating heart. She could practically hear her blood pump through her ears. He was standing close to her, too close. The smell of his cologne was nearly overpowering. She vividly remembered inhaling it her first day here and the aroma had been faint from wear. So early in the day this time and so close, she guessed he'd barely sprayed some on an hour ago. He smelled _divine_. 

"Can't argue with that. Thank you, Max." 

"You're welcome, Mr. Jefferson." 

"When we're alone like this," He whispered surprisingly softly, so softly that she had to lean a bit towards him to hear what he was saying. "Call me Mark." 

Max blinked up at him, at a loss for words. 

"I demand, you deliver, right?" He shot back her statement from before and she scowled in response. A chuckle erupted from him as he clicked away at the computer. 

She huffed, turning her face forwards. 

"Fine, _Mark_ , but I sincerely doubt it's appropriate." 

She was playing coy. In truth, she liked having the freedom of using his first name. It made their unnatural relationship a tad more personal.

With her back turned towards him, he leaned in a little towards her to catch a whiff of the scent in her hair before lowering his head further down until his lips nearly grazed against the shell of her ear. 

"And you think my touching you all those times is?" 

Max whirled around to grimace at him. A smirk slid up his face and he took hold of her jaw before she could look away from him again. He held her gaze, his hold on her firm. Her blue eyes widened in excitement as her lips parted, a silent breath fanning out across his lips. He licked them before asking, "You meant that, didn't you?" 

Blinking rapidly, it took a moment to register what he was referring to. Her mind was completely muddled by his demanding touch, knees weak.

"Yes," She breathed out truthfully and he released her as soon as she did. 

"I'll hold you to it." He said as he printed out the photo. "Pin that up, will you? There," He point to a spot on the wall behind Max's seat as he walked off towards his desk. 

Taking the photo from the printer, she regained some of her composure as she went to do his bidding. Though she did wonder _how_ he could casually cause her to forget how to breathe or talk and then go on as if nothing had happened. He must be used to it, having girls swoon over him. Max didnt want to be like those girls. She wanted to be the one making _him_ weak and unbeknownst to her, she was. She just couldn't see it behind the carefully placed mask he wore.

────────────────────────

Nothing else was exchanged between the two. Mark told her what to do next and she followed through with it while intermittently stealing sips from her cappuccino. Class was nearly about to begin by the time she was finished with it and went to dispose of the cup in the bin beside Mark's desk. Thinking of, she glanced at Mark who was standing outside the door, chatting with Victoria. If he was at all annoyed, he didn't let it show. If anything, he seemed uninterested. 

Refusing to let jealousy seep through her cracks, Max turned on her heel to return to her desk when Stella stepped in her way, blocking the path. 

"What the hell is your problem, Max?" She practically growled.

Max's mouth instantly felt dry as she stared into the angry depths of Stella's dark eyes.

"What?" 

Stella laughed bitterly, shaking her head.

"You giving Brandon a black eye, that's what. He denied your advances and you retaliated by hitting him in the face." Stella accused with a scowl. "How do you sleep at night?"

Now it was Max's turn to laugh. This girl actually _believed_ such an absurd lie? 

"Usually quite well. Apart from last night, that is. I couldn't lay on my back and sleep comfortably since your boyfriend threw a book at it after I wounded his precious pride and ego."  She argued, more than a little annoyed that she was being accused of something so preposterous.

Before a cat fight could ensue, the bell rang, signaling the start of class. Stella reluctantly stepped out of Max's way and she briskly went past her.

 _And I thought I was naive_ Max mused to herself as she heard Mark begin his teachings. 

He walked down the aisle between the large square-like desks and chose to lean against the one directly in front of Max, his body facing her entirely as it usually did. Looking up at him, she caught his gaze lingering on her a moment longer than necessary before he looked off towards a different student. It was overwhelming being under his observant eye. At times, it felt like he saw beneath the exterior of a shy, quiet girl, his gaze penetrating deeper than anyone else cared to, and it scared her. Did he see the purity he loved so much when he looked at her with those brown, watchful eyes? Or something else entirely? Either way, it was flattering to have captured his interest so profoundly that he stared at her longer than anyone else and in those transient exchanges carried emotions so intense, she feared it'd stop her from breathing. 

Exhaling heavily, she propped her elbow up onto the desk to curl her hand beneath her chin, trying with no avail to focus on what he was saying. It was difficult concentrating when he looked at her a variety of different ways like colors in a kaleidescope. The emotion in his eyes were different each time. In one, it was curious and the very next was heated, fervent. The latter made her stomach flip like a pancake as she pressed her legs painfully together. 

Self conscious, Max glanced to the others within the room and caught Victoria glaring at her; she saw, noticed the looks being exchanged. An embarrassed flush coursed throughout her face as she looked down to her journal in front of her. She remained that way for the remainder of the period and was relieved when the bell finally rang, releasing her from this place and the people in it. 

"Stay behind for a moment, Max?" She heard Mark say aloud over the sudden burst of conversation that usually arose when class was over. 

"Yes sir." She responded as she placed her belongings back into her bag. 

Victoria surprisingly didn't go up to Mark after glass like she did the other day which worried her a bit. She must've seen the way he was looking at Max and was going to report it to the principal. No, she wouldn't do that, would she? She was too big of a fan. 

"I have a question," Max suddenly said once they were alone, pushing thoughts of Victoria out of her mind.

Mark stepped up to her desk, practically leaning over her as he pressed his hand atop the smooth surface in front of her. 

"Shoot," 

"Why did you tell Kate that I was to be your assistant and not her? I mean, why did you give her my name? That sort of thing seems confidential." 

"I simply couldn't deny her pretty, pouty face." He answered with an amused expression and she couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. Either way, the truth would upset her and it was pathetic to get butt hurt over a man who was completely out of her league. 

"Forget I asked." Max muttered as she stood up from her seat. 

"Truth is," He began, halting her movements. "I don't believe any of that is your business." 

"It is when I'm involved with the subject at hand, Mark. She totally flipped out on me this morning, asked if I did you a sexual 'favor' for the position." 

All amusement fled from his face and she was sure he must've been disturbed by that mental image. A teacher and a student? No way, especially not with her; she wasn't his type.

"Sorry. Should've left that part out." 

"No, I'm glad you told me," He murmured absently and added as an after thought, "Perhaps she's not as innocent as I originally thought." 

Max didn't say anything to that. What _could_ she say other than ' _what the fuck?_ It was clear to her that he had a thing for innocence. He'd first called her as such when they first met with that strange pause before he said it. She didn't understand it at first but thinking on it now, she surmised he had an affinity to it. 

"Will you answer me honestly now?" She queried when the silence between them grew too long. 

He didn't verbally answer, only nodded his head once. 

"Why would you tell Kate about me? She didn't need to know." 

"Are you sure you want to hear the truth, Max?" He asked as he turned slightly to lean his bottom against the edge of the desk, hands placed on either side of him.

Max nodded wordlessly, scooting ever closer to him until she could feel his undeniable warmth emanate from him. 

Mark willed her to look directly into his eyes as he spoke this next bit and she did so without hesitation, virtually wallowed in his dark gaze.

"I wanted to see the pain in her eyes." He stated simply followed by a careless shrug of his shoulder. 

Her jaw dropped open an inch in shock at the revelation. 

"Are you going to report me to the principal now?" He asked teasingly, knowing full and well she wouldn't. If that was her intention, she would've done so a while ago after he first touched her. What was a few words that couldn't be proven were said?  

What threw him off was her immediate reply. She slowly shook her head 'no'. 

"I wouldn't dream of it." 

Mark couldn't conjure up a single reply as he stared deeply into her blue eyes. What was this girl who so openly accepted his inappropriate behavior as a teacher, who vowed to do whatever he demanded of her, who discarded the wellbeing of a classmate for _his_ safekeeping? It was remarkably unexpected and his goal of ridding himself of her grew more and more disagreeable.

"We'll see if your dreams stay that way before the week is out; if they even remain as 'dreams', for that matter."

Max pulled herself away from him as a student walked in; his next period class was beginning to arrive. 

"Can't wait." She whispered to him as she walked by and out the room. Mark watched her go all along the way, his hands tightly clutching at the desk he leant against. She didn't even know it, but she was testing him - his patience and very being. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of setting up a one shot book centered mainly on this pairing. Yeah or nah?


	11. Dark Corners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the chapter title is anything to go by, you already know where this one leads.
> 
> You guys probably weren't expecting this bit so soon but here we are! Enjoy. ^.^

The rest of the school day might as well not have happened. It all went by so quickly with Max going through the motions, barely paying any attention in the following classes. She didn't even bother eating lunch and avoided anyone who intended to strike up meaningless conversations with her. A certain devilishly handsome art teacher consumed her every thought so strongly that she couldn't focus on anything going on around her. A tornado could come tearing its way through the school and she wouldn't notice - the teen was _that_ self-absorbed with restless thoughts and imaginings of Mark Jefferson.

To say she was relieved that school finally ended would be a massive understatement. Hearing that final bell toll unlocked the shackles holding her down and she bolted from her last period class to the hall where Warren was already suspiciously standing as though in waiting. She hasn't spoken to him much since last weekend at the diner. The major reason for that was wholly her doing; she actively tries avoiding him to save herself from boring scientific discussions that she couldn't care less about while also fending off his painfully obvious flirtatious advances. 

"Max!" He yelled after her as she sped walked down the hall, making a sharp right that led to the staircase. Her life drawing class was on the second floor and she would've taken the elevator if it wasn't always clamored with students. 

"Hey, Warren." Max greeted, willing to be friendly with the goofball since she didn't exactly have a good reason not to. 

He grinned toothily as he caught up to her, adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. 

"How're you? Must be stoked school is finally over." 

She nodded her head in agreement as the couple descended the steps. 

"Pretty stoked, actually. As you said." 

He chuckled and held one of the double doors open for her once they'd reached the bottom of the staircase, making a dramatic sweep of his arm as she walked past. Max smiled to show her gratitude and giggled lightly at his silliness. 

Nothing more was said between them until they reached the outdoors.

"Sooo, I have this flash drive," Warren began as he scratched the back of his neck. "That I'd like you to check out. It's stockpiled with a bunch of cult classics ranging from the droll to the totally epic! _Faster, Pussycat! Kill Kill, Cannibal Holocaust,_ and _Funny Games,_ to name a few." 

Her interest in their conversation was officially piqued. All three of those films she's watched more than once due to its violence and fake gore. While most people would find it disturbing and not worth watching even once, she thought they were entertaining. Max was not like most peoole and it was nice knowing she shared a similar interest with Warren in terms of movies.

"What about _A Clockwork Orange_?" Max asked, challenging him.

"Got it." He responded without skipping a beat, his boyish grin transforming into a self-satisfied smirk.

She hummed as they walked across the walkway leading to the dorms, wracking her head for a dark film he didn't have in his eclectic collection.

" _A Serbian Film_?" 

Glancing at him, she saw that smirk drop right off his lips. A grimace fell across his face as he shook his head wildly from side to side. 

"You got me there," He admitted, tone oversaturated with disappointment. "Damn, Max. You're hardcore. You've actually seen that movie?" 

"Yes. I was morbidly curious after reading a review about it online and wanted to see it for myself." 

His nose wrinkled. Of all the macabre films he's seen, he couldn't bring himself to watch that one; he wouldn't be able to stomach it.

"Did you . . like it?" 

She shrugged her delicate shoulders as if the topic at hand was the most casual thing on earth. 

"I mean, it did make me uncomfortable, its subject matter and all that. Looking at it from that perspective, no, I didn't like it at all. And I'm sure that's what the director intended." She explained as they reached the dorm rooms. 

The trip here with Warren was surprisingly pleasant. Strangely so considering how their conversation veered from basic 'how are you's' to disturbing flicks. Maybe that was why. Warren himself just stared at her, dumbfounded at how nonchalant she was talking about such a messed up movie. It made him look like a pussy.

"So are you going to give me your flash?" She asked after she caught him gawking at her. 

He shook himself free from the daze she put him in and smiled ear to ear to hide his embarrassment. 

"Right! Uh-" 

Checking both pockets of his jeans, he retrieved a green flash drive gripped tight between his fingers.

"Here. Make sure to check out those titles I mentioned earlier. They're badass and _violent_."

Max took the item from his hand and smiled, not mentioning to him that she already has. She could use a much needed distraction and the movies will do just the trick. Or so she hoped.

──────────────────────── 

The teen ended up binge-watching nearly all of the films Warren had on his flash drive since it took that many to get her mind off of Mark. It was around midnight when she decided to step out of her room and into the hall, bath caddie in hand. She craved for a cold shower after watching all those movies; they tended to get her blood pumping as if she was in them, for some odd reason. 

Tiptoeing down the gloomy hall, she came to an abrupt stop at the corner that turned off towards the showers. A rustling sound captured her attention and she looked at the dark corner where she thought it originated from. She didn't bring her phone with her to help shine the way down the hall, solely depending on the moonlight pouring in through the windows to illuminate the way forward. 

It felt like there were eyes on her as she stood there, wide-eyed and fearful, similar to that of a deer caught in headlights. A chill ran up and down her arms and she darted to the shower room, slamming the door behind her. She was being paranoid, she knew. Those movies had an effect on people and she was no different regardless of finding genuine entertainment in such films and not horror or disgust. She was just hearing things that weren't there, her mind playing tricks on her. Having that mindset helped calm her down some as she entered a nearby stall and stripped to take a quick shower. 

When she emerged, towel wrapped tightly around her wet, bare body, she made haste in returning back to her dorm, her paranoia from before returning full force as soon as she stepped out into the dark. 

She felt like she was being eyeballed again, stalked by some unseen predator. Could it be David Madsen? She's heard rumors about him stalking students, hassling them, and taking pictures of them for 'surveillance' purposes. The sickening thought of being monitored by that man and his silly mustache gave her goosebumps and not in a good way. If she was going to get any sleep tonight, she forced thoughts of that guy completely off her mind and chalked up the unsettling feeling of being watched as a figment of her active imagination. 

Having dried her hair decently enough along with her body, Max shimmied on a pair of white cotton panties, black fleece shorts and finally a loose-fitted tee with a faded abstract design imprinted on the front to serve as her pajamas for the night. 

As she buried herself underneath the covers, her mind soon drifted back to Mark. Why she even bothered taking her mind off him was a dumb move and an ultimately fruitless one. 

Max felt apprehensive yet thrilled for tomorrow. It was a weird turn of events, she couldn't deny that. They were clearly attracted to one another and it'd only been a week and a half. But to be fair, she's admired him for years now. It was only natural that she'd come to the conclusion of foolishly crushing on him after such a short amount of time. She couldn't speak for him though. Thinking back, he _did_ mention her purity, saying that was made her special and separated her from the rest. Suppose that was where his attraction to her generated from. 

Where Mark was intrigued by her purity, Max was enthralled by the darkness that lay dormant within him. He probably thought she couldn't see it but she could, clear as day. 

With the laterns she hung along the wall to her right the only thing setting the room aglow, she found herself drifting off to sleep, thinking of Mark's breathy voice in that fleeting moment of weakness, his welcoming soft touch, and deep gaze that she still couldn't find herself able to bear. 

Somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, she heard a faraway sound that her sleepy mind couldn't precisely pinpoint before a sharp pinch registered in her brain as pain. She managed to wince and open her eyes a crack as her body was dragged out of bed and into a pair of strong arms. Her head rested on their chest as she fought against whatever was keeping her limbs from moving. Her eyes refused to remain open despite her willing it to do so. They drooped completely shut, obscuring her vision and forcing her to rely on her rapidly decreasing sense of hearing for anchorage.

Panic shot through her subconscious like a speeding bullet; she was being taken by some unknown assailant and there was _nothing_ she could do. That was worst part - being _aware_ of her abduction and incapable of doing anything about it. 

Her head fell limply against an unfamiliar texture as her body was moved onto a different position within the backseat of what felt like a vehicle. Max could hear the roar of the engine and soon felt the momentum of the car driving forward. She quickly came to the conclusion that she'd been drugged. It would explain the prick on her neck and the inability to move or speak. Whatever it was, it seemed to keep her calm which was good if Max wanted to keep a level head. Drugs didn't last forever in the system and she was going to need all her bearings as soon as she came out of it. _If_ she did. 

She couldn't guess how anyone could kidnap her from her own dorm room. It obviously had to be someone who went to Blackwell. The question was _who_? David, possibly? No, he had no reason. Warren? More than enough reason. The thought of him doing this would've sent a shudder through her if she wasn't heavily anesthetized.

It was unknown to her how much time had passed. Minutes blurred into what felt like hours as she faded in and out of consciousness. Her eyes fluttered beneath her lids as she heard the car door slam close and the back one open. She heard an exchange of words between two people, deep in octave. Males. 

As before, she was lifted up by a set of arms only this time, they felt lengthier and slightly girthier and held her tighter than the ones before. A moment later, a familiar scent filled her nostrils with masculinity as her face was gently pressed against a soft fabric, the arms holding her closely. 

Her small body melted into Mark's hold as he gingerly carried her down to the dark room with Nathan Prescott following suit.

"Are you sure this is wise?" He asked his mentor as they descended the steps that led into the expensive studio that has seen so much death in the past. 

"Don't question my motives, Nathan." Mark snapped as he placed Max down on the white backdrop. A weakened groan tore through her throat and he stilled, not wanting to accidentally rouse her from the drug-induced stupor she was forced into. Once she quieted down, he exhaled sharply through his nose and stood to slide a pair of vinyl gloves on his hands. 

"Your assistance in this endeavor is concluded. You may go." He dismissed him.

Nathan took one final look at Max before running a hand through his thick blonde hair and stalking off. He couldn't deny his father figure much of anything even if he wanted to; Mark wouldn't hesitate to kill him. He's threatened him enough to understand that. If you would've asked him two days ago after the bathroom incident that Max Cockfield was to be Mark's next photographic muse, he'd have laughed. She didn't come off as innocent to him. All too often, however, Mark saw in people what Nathan couldn't - innocence, for example. He locked up the dark room behind him and took off, feeling a small sliver of regret for bringing Max to him on a silver platter. She'd been quiet on him bringing a gun to school, much to his surprise. He didn't even have to threaten her. And he repaid that generosity by bringing her to her death. 

Stepping outside, all feelings and thoughts of Max vanished. He didn't give a damn about her or anyone. Now, he just wanted to get high and forget everything, if only for a moment. 

──────────────────────── 

Finally alone with Max, Mark took a moment to drink her image in. She lay motionless in front of him, eyes closed with a calm facial expression that made her look more innocent than ever. It was stunning - her image. And he could bet she captured it wonderfully through the self-portraits he's seen her take last week when he chose to ignore her. It was far from easy, warding himself off from her, and he obviously failed to stay away. To continue on his path with zero distractions, however, destroying her now was the only solution to refocusing his attention on what he thought mattered most to him - his dark room sessions, the countless photos he's taken since he first started, and this business as a whole. 

Yet as he gazed longingly down at her lovely countenance, he couldn't shake off the feeling of wanting to do the complete opposite and allow her to live. 

_Maybe . . just **maybe** , she'll understand. _

Peeling off the vinyl glove from his right hand, he reached out to gently caress her face the way he did countless times before then moved it upward to brush the brown strands of her hair from her eyes. She didn't stir from his touch and a sharp pang of worry sliced through him as he pressed two fingers to her throat, checking her pulse. Mark wasn't exactly a certified doctor, but he knew how many beats a heart should take per minute when under the influence of a heavy drug. 

If Nathan overdosed Max like he did with Rachel, he was going to brutally _murder_ the spoiled brat in the most painful way possible. Mark normally didn't revel in the horrific act of murder. It was a means to an end, but when it came to Max, the rules flipped and he'd be willing to make the kid suffer for not only disappointing him once again, but also for taking away the only muse he's ever truly grown . . curious about. She was unlike the rest, different and possibly willing to let in the dark. 

With the pulse of her heart beating at a slow but steady pace, he exhaled a sigh of relief before sliding the glove back into place and rising to stand. 

Fetching a nearby roll of duct tape, he was gentle in binding both her wrists and ankles, his eyes trained on the task at hand. Like with a camera, his hands were deft handling the sticky three layered rubber mesh. Having performed this task so many times, it's become routine. 

Before he moved from his kneeling position after finishing tying her up, curiosity had him rounding her unconscious form until he was directly behind her. He sucked in a quick breath and lifted the loose shirt she wore all the way up until most of her back was exposed to his sharp eyes. As expected, he saw no bra strap, but that wasn't what he was looking for. His brown eyes zeroed in on the dark purple bruise on her back and anger for that fucking teenager who created it boiled up to the surface. 

"Motherfucker," He growled lowly, his jaw tight. 

The color was beautiful against her pale skin, he adored the contrast and dynamic, but _hated_ how it came to be. 

He trailed his fingers briefly over the contusion before dragging her shirt back down. Even when she slept, she kept her modesty. While the shorts were a tad bit too short for his liking, it showed off her long, flawless legs magnificently and he caught himself staring at them, roving up and up until his gaze fell onto the swell of her ass. 

Cursing himself, he tore his eyes away and stood to make himself a glass of malt whiskey. It'd help take the edge off, alcohol always did if given the right amount. He tossed his head back as he gulped down the first glass then poured himself another. The strong amber liquid had burned down his throat, warming it soon after in an all too comforting sensation. 

Setting the bottle on the low glass coffee table in front of the couch along with his second glass, he walked up to one of the few sliding wall units that was home to an entertainment system, of sorts. Several cameras took up this space as well as a couple of unused red binders. A stereo that was connected to a surround sound system also made this place its home on the lower shelves with an iPod to accompany it. Now wasn't the time for music. From there, he snagged himself a Hasselblad H5D camera and attached an appropriate lense to go along with it. This expensive piece takes incredibly crisp images and that is what he wants from this session - with all his sessions from here and beyond. 

Rather than begin the shoot, he lowered himself down on the couch and sat in the 4-figure position as he reached for the glass of alcohol. He placed the camera on his lap as he stared off at Max, admiring the simple view of her vulnerable, sleeping body. Looking at her now, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to get rid of her once he was done. He didn't let _anyone_ into his world of distinguished art. Nathan was the only exception. It was a fair bargain, Mark supposed. Teach the kid all there is to know about this business while keeping a close eye on him as well. In return for that, Sean gave him complete access to his fortune with zero limitations. 

But Mark was getting tired. Tired of the babysitting and cleaning up the unhinged teen's mess. If he had someone less prone to violent outbursts, it'd make his work here much simpler and more enjoyable. Like Max, for example. 

' _You demand, I deliver_.' She'd said, but he questioned if she truly meant it. If he demanded her to buy more drugs for his future models, would she? If he asked her to give one of them an overdose with the intent of killing them, would she? If he commanded her to help him dispose of the body, _would_ she? 

Doubtful. It was dangerous to even entertain the notion, so he stopped altogether. 

As he finished off the whiskey, she began to stir and Mark traded the glass for his camera. 

Showtime. 

──────────────────────── 

Her legs and arms felt like lead. She could barely move them. It was hardly discernable, but she could hear the clicking sound of a camera as her eyes cracked slighty open. Her vision was blurry, muted colors blending together with a splash of red in the middle that seemed to move from one spot to the other. Her captor, sporting such a vivid color as if intending for her to know where they were as they . . . took pictures of her. 

Focusing on her sense of touch, she felt that her clothes were still intact and heaved a breathy sigh of relief as she opened her eyes a little wider in an attempt to clear her vision, to _see_ who shared this room with her. 

"Good morning, sleeping beauty." She heard the soothing voice say to her. 

Being in the heavily drug induced state she was in, she couldn't place who that voice belonged to or if she had even heard it before. 

"God, you are truly breathtaking, Max." It added. "So pure and innocent. Undiluted, wholesome, a virgin to the cruelties of the real world." 

The voice was closer to her left side and the blob of red could no longer be seen. Her lids soon drooped back closed as she was unable to keep them open any longer. It was tiring. 

"Angling and lighting is important in photography. It can highlight both the good _and_ the bad. Now, I may be a bit biased, but I have yet to come across anything bad with you so far." 

The more they talked, the more it registered through the haze of her mind of who that distinct timbre belonged to. _No. It can't be . . ._

"Mark . . ?" She mumbled. What was he doing here? "Wh-what -" 

"Shhh . . ." Mark shushed her, pressing a single gloved finger to her lips. 

With a defeated sigh, Max obeyed and relaxed back down to her lying position. She was slowly regaining control of her senses, she realized as she pulled at the restraints that held her wrists together. Not in an attempt to break out of them, but to test its affects. They were tightly bound, almost painfully so. Confusion muddled her mind and thoughts into a jumbled mess. Nothing made sense - her being here, Mark being here, wherever _here_ even was. 

After a few more shots, Mark rose to his feet to quicky overviewed them while Max began to stir. 

"Stop moving, Maxine." He told her, throwing a warning glance at her that she couldn't possibly see. 

She whined in response but otherwise listened and ceased her movement. 

' _Perhaps she **did** mean what she said that day in class_ ' he mused silently to himself as he deleted a few of the photos that didn't come out right then resumed his stance from before. He moved around her, taking photos of her every angle whilst murmuring his appreciation of her. 

Max couldn't fully comprehend what was happening. She recalled being kidnapped from her dorm room, then driving for a long time as she slipped in and out of consciousness, a pair of arms enclosing around her and finally this, of Mark, her _teacher_ , taking pictures of her. She knew something about him was off but never could've imagined how far off he truly was. No sane person would commit such an act and Max found herself worried with the outcome. Surely someone with his disturbed mindset didn't intend on letting her go after this, especially since she figured out it was him behind her abduction. Strangely enough, she wasn't afraid. Only worried. While not inherently scared of death, she didn't want to die like _this_. 

_Think, Max. Find a way out of this. Use your rusty silver tongue!_

A gentle touch to her shoulder brought her back to the present. She was turned on her backside, her bound hands moving along with her to rest on her chest. Pain flourished throughout as the pressure of her weight pressed against the bruise and he timely photographed the raw emotion that spread across her beautiful face. 

"Gorgeous," He lauded her appreciatively, his voice dipping with an almost sexual undertone. Hearing it made Max's stomach flip. 

"Was the tape necessary?" She asked weakly, popping one eye open to see his dark silhouette dance across her blurry vision. "In my weakened state, I couldn't get very far even if I tried." 

"I _like_ the tape, Max. It signifies helplessness, wouldn't you say?" As he said that, she felt him gently tug on the strong adhesive and heard him chuckle thereafter. "Think of it as a prop." He finished as he kneeled back down to her level, hovering the camera directly over her face for a few headshots. 

The drug was ebbing and he noticed it right away. The dilation of her pupils were slowly retracting to their original state and her words weren't as slurred as before, only faint. Sighing, he walked up to the trolley where viles of the narcotic were stationed at and prepared a syringe to give her another healthy dose. He wasn't finished with her yet. 

With the syringe half full, he theatrically flicked it a few times as he made his way back to her. She was fully alert now, eyes wide with . . eagerness? 

Slowly, very slowly, he lowered himself down beside her as she flipped back over on her side, his determination faltering the slightest bit. 

"Does none of this scare you? Do _I_ not frighten you?" 

His voice was barely above a whisper as he was too dumbfounded by her to speak any louder. 

"I'm not afraid of you, Mark." She mumbled groggily, the strong drug in her system weighing heavily on most, if not, all of her motor systems, making it difficult to speak coherently. 

The glare of his glasses moved a centimeter to the right as he tilted his head, kneeling by her side with his hold on the syringe loosening the slightest bit by her proclamation. It wasn't her words that bit its way through his resolve, but rather the determined look in her tired blue eyes that made him realize they rang truth. 

"If anything," She started after a long, drawn out pause. "I admire you." 

Rusty silver tongue be damned. She _meant_ what she said and she hoped he could see the truth of her words swimming within her wide eyes. 

Oh, he saw all right. After all of this, she _admired_ him. It was hard to process and understand where her conviction stemmed from, but he didn't have the patience to ponder over it. Instead, he gently lifted her head up from the floor, using his thumb to tilt her head to the side for better access of her neck and was about to puncture through the skin before she softly said, "Are you going to kill me?" 

A pained expression fell across his face before he could stop it. The truth was, he didn't know what he was going to do with her anymore. Killing her seemed like a waste, but he couldn't very well let her live unless she truly meant all that was said. He couldn't trust anyone though. Not completely and not without some form of blackmail. That's how he got as far as he did. _His_ trust wasn't what mattered at the moment; it was _hers_. 

"No," He finally answered then hastily added as he pressed the needle against the soft, creamy flesh of her throat. "But you don't know if this dosage is fatal, so if I administer this to you now, it wouldn't matter either way, would it?" 

Max silently shook her head, her lids drifting closed. 

Moistening his lips, his brow twisted in uncertainly, he leaned ever closer, wanting to ensure she heard every word. 

"Do you trust me not to kill you here and now with this drug, Maxine?" He asked her quietly, digging the tip of the needle further against her skin. He needed her trust if this was going to work between them. He didn't even know what _this_ thing between them was. It far surpassed anything he ever knew. 

She normally didn't like it when people referred to her as 'Maxine', but hearing it come from _his_ mouth, in _his_ voice, she'll make an exception. 

In response to his question, her bound hands reached up to grasp his own. She clumsily applied just the right amount of pressure for the needle to break through the skin and they both audibly gasped in unison from the action. 

"I trust you." She said truthfully and he didn't hesitate to press his thumb down on the plunger, his irises dilating wildly as he watched the transparent fluid disappear from the syringe. His body reacted simultaneously to her submission, his cock shamelessly hardening against his trousers until it nearly hurt him. Never has he been aroused so fervently, but then again, neither has any of his models openly and willingly submitted to him in such a stimulating way. He found it terribly erotic and his member only stiffened the longer he reflected on it. 

As soon as the drug entered her blood stream, the muscles in her body instantly relaxed. Mark dipped his head further down to brush his lips across her neck, his tongue darting out to lick up the fresh droplet of blood that seeped out from the tiny pinprick wound. His body shuddered violently and before he could get carried away, he lowered her head back down on the floor and gradually stood back on his two feet. He ignored the uncomfortable bulge in the front of his pants as he clucked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, savoring her palatable essence. 

Where he expected to feel a twinge of regret for granting her life, he instead felt empowered. _She_ somehow poured that into him by her trust and admiration in him when neither one was expected. 

With a self-satisfied wicked laugh, Mark tossed the syringe aside and snatched his camera back up from where he left it. 

This school year was certainly going to be an interesting one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta express my thanks for all the kudos and comments! I appreciate every single one. :)


	12. Obsession

A pulsating ache throbbed at her temple, jerking Max away from her pleasantly dreamless slumber. It painfully traveled throughout the rest of her head and she winced as she tried to move only to immediately still from the sheer intensity of it. 

Groaning, she slowly opened her eyes and was greeted by darkness. A dim light emanated somewhere off in the corner, casting part of the ceiling aglow. She couldn't see what it was, however. Not from her position on what she quickly assumed was a couch. 

_Where am I?_ she thought to herself groggily. The air was colder than the dorms and so much more silent than them as well. There was zero ambiance in this place and it made her feel a twinge of unease course through her hazy subconsciousness. 

Vague memories flooded her mind of Mark's deep hypnotizing voice, a cold needle flush against her neck, the soft snaps of the camera. It all came crashing into her like a violent tidal wave crashing against the shore and she groaned again from the onslaught of remembering it all at once, amplifying her migraine. Reaching up to rub her temple, she realized her hands were still tied together as well as her ankles. 

"What the fuck," She grumbled, her usually soft voice warped, sounding raspy and brittle. 

The tape didn't budge as she attempted to pull her hands free from the tight confines. She struggled against the strong adhesive helplessly, fatigue eventually rendering her limbs useless. Why the hell did he keep her bound like this? She suppose she shouldn't complain. He _did_ choose not to kill her, after all.

But it begged the question on why he kept her here at all. Did he intend on keeping her here forever? That was a disturbing thought.

A loud noise that sounded like a heavy door opening drew her away from her mounting thoughts followed by a light flickering on overhead. She blinked from the sudden intrusion it had on her overly sensitive eyes and swallowed down a pained moan. She managed to sit up a little as Mark came into a view, setting down a large plastic bag onto the low table in front of her. The sweet aroma flowing out from it made Max's mouth water. 

"Sleep well?" He asked casually as he lowered himself down on the couch beside her.

Instead of answering, she lifted up her bound hands and scowled. The girl decided to complain anyway. 

"What the hell is up with this? I trusted you enough to drug me, but you couldn't put enough trust in _me_ to release my binds? How is that any fair?"

His jaw slackened slightly as she spoke and he drew closer to her, his left arm strewn across the backrest behind her. Max's breath hitched the closer he got to her and she stopped breathing entirely when his right hand went up to her face, his fingertips tilting her chin upward until her blue eyes melded with his brown ones. 

"Don't confuse my clemency with assurance, Maxine. I never said I'd trust you with _anything_." He practically hissed out. 

She shrunk further into the cushions in acquiescence, frowning up at him. He eyed her for a moment longer, drinking her image in while she tried her hardest not to squirm. Here he was wanting her to understand him when he himself couldn't even begin to understand _her_. She seemed so nonchalant about waking up here, alone and in the dark, tied and helpless under the mercy of one of her own idols. When he walked in, he half expected her to scream at him or thrash against the tape that kept her limbs together, but was instead greeted by a simple scowl and an equally simple question. Max was unlike all the other's he's taken and photographed here, that much was certain. It was a strange, but welcomed change. 

Breaking eye contact with her, he dropped his hand from her and reached into his back pocket for the knife he brought.

"I'll earn more of your trust," She vowed quietly as he flicked the blade open and lowered it down to her wrists. 

"More?" He queried, the blade easily slicing through the tape like a hot knife through butter.

"Yes. I wouldn't be alive now if there wasn't a part of you that didn't trust me." She explained whilst rubbing her violet-stained wrists. 

Mark gently took her hands, his warm and elegantly long fingers tracing intricate patterns along the bruised skin, causing gooseflesh to dot across her arms. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't know I bound them that tightly." He apologized hollowly, ultimately severing further conversation about trust. Retrieving the knife from his lap, he bent slightly down to cut the tape from her ankles.

Max shook her head, smiling somewhat bashfully. 

"Don't be. I think it's beautiful." She murmured honestly, her wide blue eyes taking in the image of her colorful wrists avidly.

With the tape on her ankles gone, he clicked the blade shut and reclined back to regard her for a moment, unsure on whether he should believe her or not. Seeing how she continued to study the discolored flesh in admiration and appreciation, there was little left for doubt. 

Lowering her freed hands back down to her lap, she eyed the pocket knife with its shiny black hilt and silver engravings. Mark followed where her eyes were drawn to and held up the object of her interest. 

"Want it?" He offered, holding the lethal weapon out to her. 

Max blinked up at him, taken aback. 

"For real?" She asked warily. 

He only smiled as he took her hand with his free one and placed the cold metal of the knife in the center of it. 

"Consider it yours." 

She couldn't contain a wide grin from breaking loose on her face as she turned the knife around in her hand. First her life and now this. So many precious gifts. 

"Thank you so much." 

"Don't mention it. Now," He exhaled sharply and reached out for the bag. "You need to eat something."

From within the plastic bag, he pulled out an encased plate of Belgium waffles with raspberries and blueberries sprinkled in the center of the stack. 

"Again, I didn't know what you liked so I went with whatever caught my eye." He said as he retrieved a bottle of orange juice from the bag along with the plastic silverware and napkins.

Max looked at the side of the bag and saw the two whales symbol imprinted in the material. This meal undoubtedly came from the Two Whales diner. Briefly, she wondered if he came into contact with Joyce and if they hit it off well. The recently married mother of one would smile at him as she handed the bag of deliciously steaming food over the counter to him, completely unaware that he had an eighteen year old tied up in some place far off where the light couldn't reach. He'd smile back, of course, with little to no effort. It'd be his signature charming smile that showed some teeth, full lips curled and eyes slightly crinkled at the edges. That smile would make any warm blooded woman's heart palpitate. 

Pushing that small fantasy aside, her grin widened at the considerate gesture as she slid forward, closer to the delectable food. 

"Thank you again, Mark." She murmured gratefully, tucking the knife snugly into the stretchy waistband of her shorts. 

Mark acknowledged her gratitude with a faint smile then watched in fascination as she carefully laid out a few napkins over her lap to prevent anything from landing on her bare legs before finally diving into the meal laid out in front of her. She took in tiny portions, chewed carefully with her mouth closed and wiped the corners clean of crumbs. This told him her parents had taught the girl some manners and basic dining etiquette. 

The language of the body revealed so much to the eye for those who chose to look deeper than what was on the surface. Someone could lie and claim that they are fine with a bright smile and cheery voice, but will have either their shoulders slumped, twiddle their fingers or look away entirely so no one could see the pain in their eyes. 

It was one of the many reasons he wanted to become a photographer. He liked reading people as though they were books and finding out what makes them tic, their weaknesses along with their strengths. It made it that much easier to manipulate them, to play on their emotions and exploit them. It's satisfying for someone like him. Kind of like a pastime. 

Halfway through with her breakfast, Max caught his stare in the corner of her eye and blushed.

"Why are you watching me?" She questioned after swallowing a mouthful of syrupy waffle goodness. 

"I'm curious about you." He replied honestly. "You trust me for some inexplicable reason that I still can't fathom, you haven't questioned where you are or my motives, and yet, you appear to be as calm as ever." He paused, lips slightly pursed. "You're a wonder."

Max sipped at the juice through the straw provided as he spoke, eyes trained on him. She noted the color of his button up shirt today, a deep blood red color with a complimentary pitch black blazer that had an even blacker trim along the lapels and cuffs. His thick brown hair was styled in its messy updue that suited him perfectly and was overall stunning to look at, as usual. 

"A wonder?" She repeated, feeling butterflies suddenly swirl around in her stomach as an angelic smile graced her open features. 

Mark marveled at it, committing her beautiful image to memory. Like her, _he_ was a camera and he wanted to take as many mental photographs of her as possible.

"Just so." He answered with a small gesture towards her, 

A giggle as soft as a feather and hypnotic as a siren's song blessed his ears at that. 

"I didn't know you could be so formal." She commented thoughtfully.

He chuckled lightly, making the butterflies in her stomach run rampant. 

"Like my portfolio, it's good to be versatile, even in terms of speech and mannerisms."

Max nodded her head in agreement, turning to face him a little more as she placed the bottle of juice back on the table.

She opened her mouth to speak then winced. The pain in her head was growing in intensity. This instantly attracted Mark's attention and he leaned in a little closer to get a better look of her face.

"What's wrong?" He asked, genuinely concerned.

Gingerly shaking her head, she tried shrugging the ache in it away. 

"Nothing, just suffering from a slight headache." 

Hearing that had him stand from the couch and approach one of the sliding wall units. He opened the one furthest from her and went about pouring a gel capsule into the palm of his hand. 

"That isn't 'nothing', Max. It's a side effect." He said as he went back to her, holding the pain killer out for her to take.

She did so hesitantly, looking up at him as she slowly popped the pill in her mouth and washed it down with the remaining orange juice.

"You didn't even ask what that was." He mumbled incredulously.

Max threw him a confused look. 

"I assume it's a pill to help ward off this pounding ache in my skull?" 

"Well, yes, but you didn't bother asking to make sure. It could've been an acid tablet for all you know." 

"But it wasn't." She argued, unable to understand where he was coming from with all this. "Is it so unbelievable that I _trust_ you, Mark?" She questioned him. 

He scoffed, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. "A little, yes." He admitted. "You haven't asked me _anything_ about what's going on or the situation you're in." 

She thought about that for a moment. Anyone else might've bombarded him with questions, but she wasn't just 'anyone'. That much was made abundantly clear when she allowed him to drug her again, willingly this time. He said so himself - she was a wonder. 

"All in good time," She smiled, pulling her legs up to her chest. "I'm in no rush to get back to Blackwell, are you?" 

Mark checked the reflective steel watch on his wrist for the time. Little time passed since he arrived and he already needed a small break from her; she boggled his mind far too much for the day. 

"I'll have to be getting back soon, actually. It'll look suspicious if we both don't show up there today."

Max frowned, her shoulders slumping. 

"Okay, I do have one question." She said, wanting to keep him here as long as she was able. " _What_ exactly is this place? I see it's a studio-" 

"Dark room," Mark cut in, correcting her. "This is where I . . appease my obsession."

"Your . . . obsession?" She pressed, wanting to know what this brilliant man could possibly be obsessed with.

Now was the time to test how far she would be willing to fall into his dark world of photography, murder, and crime. To see if she had the mental capacity to _understand_ his vision and not be afraid of it. He already had an inkling that she would, but as a precaution, in case things don't go well, he already had a syringe at the ready. The problem lied on his ability to do what must be done if it came down to that. Delivering that fatal dose wasn't going to be easy. One thing he disliked more than anything was wasted potential and he felt that in killing Max, all the potential she possessed would die along with her. He secretly hoped for both their sakes that he wouldn't need to administer anything deadly in that beautiful neck of hers. 

Rising from the couch, he stretched his hand out to her. This was the first step and he held his breath as he awaited for her to decide if this was what she wanted. Life or death. It didn't take long for her to choose. She placed her hand in his much larger one and allowed herself to be whisked away towards a set of computers situated on a thick and sturdy glass desk in the far left corner of the room.

Mark urged her to sit on the cushioned chair in front of the desk and as soon as she did, he released her hand and placed his on the mouse. He pulled out a file where all of her photos were stored and clicked to expand the first one he saw. 

Max tilted her head as she studied the image of herself laid out before her. All in black and white, helpless, unconscious and utterly vulnerable, all at the mercy of a single man who could've killed her just as quick and easy as his taking a photo. Mark flicked his finger across the touchscreen to show off the next photo. He did this every other minute, allowing Max to register what she was seeing. He studied her facial expressions throughout as he lingered beside her, waiting with bated breath to hear her shriek in terror or lash out at him in anger. Neither of those things happened and for a split second, he wondered if he was no longer alone in seeing the beauty of corrupted innocence. 

"You-" Her voice faltered, giving way to uncertainty. 

She knew what she saw. It wasn't just her within those photographs. Mark managed to capture much more than that. There was raw emotion there, so raw it looked almost tangible. She couldn't quite understand the significance to it or what precisely he was obsessed with. 

"You see it, don't you? I can tell by the look in your eyes." He murmured to her softly as he bent further down to her level, his head near hers.

Max shook her head, grimacing. 

"I don't think I see what you see, Mark." 

"Look closer," He pressed, sliding his hand along the screen to another photograph of her. 

In this one, her eyes were slightly ajar and staring right at the lens, lips parted and short hair fanned out behind her. As her eyes focused harder on the ones in the picture, she nearly stopped breathing when she realized the look in those monochrome eyes was that of desire. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" He probed, his eyes fixated on the picture he'd taken of her on the screen. 

Max seemed to have entered a trance-like state as she continued to rove her eyes over the pixelated image. So lost was she in the art he created that his voice hardly registered. 

"It is," She agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. "So beautiful." 

He was more than a little flattered by her soft spoken words. Averting his gaze to her face, it was confirmed that she wasn't lying just to make him feel good. She spoke truthfully and his chest swelled with pride seeing it. 

To regain her attention, he exited out of the file and tilted her head to the side for her to look up at him. He wanted to make sure that what he was witnessing in her wasn't a trick of the light or if he was simply seeing what he wanted. 

"You're not afraid? Repulsed?" He asked her, failing to keep the strain out from his voice. 

She wordlessly shook her head, still dazed from the photos he'd shown her. 

_She's not getting it. Not entirely._

"Max, the models I bring down here are never willing participants. They can't be. Do you understand that?"

"I do." She answered without pause, looking straight up at him unblinkingly. 

They kept their eyes locked onto one another with Mark trying to make her crack under his scrutiny and Max choosing to get lost within his hard gaze. When he realized neither of them were going to let up, he looked away, slight relief flooding through him. She's passed only one hurdle of many. It was going to take much more than this for her to prove herself to him. But for now, he was more than satisfied with the outcome. She's claimed to understand. All he needed to do was test her honesty on that. At a later date, of course. 

Now it was time to reveal the reason behind all of this, or part of the reason, rather. If she was okay with kidnap, then this final admission of his will be a walk in the park. 

"You see, most models are cynical. They lose their naiveté. But not you. _You_ , Maxine Caulfield, are unlike any other." He revealed as he squatted down in front of her, swiveling the chair until she was facing him. "I'm used to capturing fear, not longing, but the point remains. I'm _obsessed_ with capturing that moment when innocence evolves into corruption."

Max exhaled a shaky breath after hearing his confession. It wasn't normal, no, and she should try to get as far away from him as possible. That was what an average teen would think, anyway. Max, on the other hand, wasn't average. She completely understood where he was coming from. The models out there in the world couldn't meet his standards of beauty so he decided to make his own down here in the dark. It was sad, in a way, and a single question popped inside her head above anything else. 

"Why?" She asked curiously, slowly coming down from the unexplainable high those pictures put her in. 

His face gave nothing away to the inner turmoil that question always wrought. Why, why, why. That's all they ever ask. That was a story he wasn't willing to relinquish to her or anyone. _Ever_. At least it wasn't disgust or fear she showed him. That would've ultimately determined whether she lived or died and, thankfully, she succeeded in solidifying further time on this earth. Albeit, only partially. 

"Don't make me tape that pretty mouth of yours shut, Maxine." He threatened, his voice devastatingly soft and throaty. 

Max didn't push the subject any further. Displeasing him was the last thing she wanted. 

"Don't threaten me with a good time." She said to lighten the mood. 

Mark neither laughed or smiled, only quirked a brow up. 

"Noted." 

Standing, he pulled open a nearby cabinet where Max leaned forward to get a better look at the rows of red binders similar to the one on the desk. He slammed it closed and she jumped in alarm from the unexpected loud noise. Today was not the day he'd give her a peek of his other sessions. Hers was the only one required to get his point across. If things go smoothly between them, however, he may be willing to mull over the idea of showing her his work. For now though, it wasn't up for debate. 

"You are _very_ nosy, Max." He muttered as he texted away at the disposable phone he pulled out from the cabinet. 

"Guilty," She said as innocently as she could. 

"Are you familiar with Nathan Prescott?" Mark asked suddenly, pocketing the phone within his blazer. 

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. She hadn't seen or heard from Nathan since that incident in the bathroom.

"Not really, why?" 

"He is going to be the one taking you back to Blackwell. I would myself, but that wouldn't look good for either of us." He explained as he walked away from her to clean the mess on the table they left behind. 

She forgot all about that place and his status there. Here, they were away from all of that. She wasn't just a student and he wasn't her teacher. They were adults, equals. Only difference between them was that he had years and experience under his belt and she had, well, not much of anything, but he could teach her! He could teach her a lot . . . 

"I've heard he's crazy," She said, mindlessly spinning in the swivel chair a couple of times. The world around her became a blur of black and white with a vibrant splash of red. 

"I certainly keep interesting company." He replied and a warm flush dusted across her cheeks and nose as she came to a slow stop.

He had disposed of all the trash in the adjacent room and went up to her to say his goodbyes. 

"You're not even the slightest bit curious on why Nathan is in on this?" 

"Nothing can detract my curiosity from _you_ , especially not some rich kid." 

Mark shook his head in disbelief, his fingers lightly skimming across the curve of her lightly freckled cheek. Her eyes drifted closed from his touch and leaned into it only for him to abruptly jerk away. Her eyes shot open to see him retreating back from her, a strained expression tattooed on his face. 

"Be ready, Nathan will arrive within the hour. I'll see you back at Blackwell." He said his farewell as he walked out, tone clipped. 

Max reached up to trace her fingers where his were not even a minute ago. Like before, his touch burned and ignited passion she's never known, made her stomach twist and turn pleasurably that made it difficult for her to breathe. 

"Wait!" She called out to him, halting him midstep from passing the threshold. He turned his body only slightly to face her, eyes looking to her expectantly. 

"What does _this_ mean?" She asked, gesturing towards the empty space between them. 

It took a moment for him to respond as he tossed ideas around in his head only to fall flat on each one of them. Making her his new protegé was definitely on the table, but he wasn't quite ready to voice that to her and he didn't think she was either. Baby steps. 

"If you prove yourself trustworthy and reliable, we'll discuss what _this is_ then, deal?" 

He didn't know either. That wasn't very reassuring, but at least they'd figure it out together. 

"Deal." She agreed, earning a pleased smile from him before he turned and left. 

Officially alone within the dark room, Max chose to explore while she waited for Nathan to show up. It didn't take a genius level intellect to come to the conclusion that Mark strictly used the kid for money. There was no way Mark's paycheck as a high school professor could pay for even a scrap of what was inside this place.

She wandered from one corner to the other, admiring the tortured art that hung from the walls and the numerous cameras kept behind a sliding metal door alongside varying lenses. She was drawn back to the smaller cabinet that was home to all those red binders. He'd made it obvious by his slamming of the door that it was something he didn't want her to see. Unwilling to defy him even without his presence, she turned to the single red binder on the desk and flipped through the empty black pages. Nothing interesting there. Closing it, she examined the spine and saw her name written there in a thick black script. She guessed he was going to print out her photos using that monster of a printer a few paces away and put them all into this binder to . . what? Admire later? Sell? That second thought bothered her more than Mark's abnormal obsession of capturing one's innocence and watching it fall apart before his eyes to snap a picture of. To think of someone else other than him seeing her in that state made her shudder in discomfort. 

Aside from that, what did it all mean? From his response to her asking why, it wasn't a topic for discussion. All Max had were her theories and that wasn't much, at least not at the moment. 

Kidnapping, drugs, photography. It was an exciting but dangerous mix and she found herself worried for him. If this sort of thing was ever found out, he'd be ruined and taken to prison. For whatever reason, be it a test or trail, he trusted her enough to thrust her back into the real world without so much as a warning for her to keep her mouth shut about what went on here. Did he already know she wouldn't report to the police? Either way, she was happy that he didn't intend on keeping her here. As beautiful as it was, it didn't feel quite as cozy as her dorm room did. 

Setting the binder down, she glanced over her shoulder towards the cabinet. How many has he kidnapped, she wondered, and were they okay? She couldn't envision him killing anyone unless it was in self defense. _Had_ he murdered any of those people he's taken photos of?

A loud honk jarred her back to reality.  
The sudden sound was startling compared to the comforting silence she was wrapped up in. She jolted herself up from the chair and walked through the vinyl stripped curtain that separated the studio - no - _dark room_ from the adjacent room that contained a water heater, sink, and shelves of water and nonperishable food. It seemed like he was preparing for some sort of apocalypse. Her thoughts wandered on where this dark room was located as she turned towards the thick metal door that looked like it'd belong in a bank. Her mouth formed an 'O' when she came into contact with it. The metal was cold, smooth and hard beneath her hand. Mark had left it slightly ajar for her so she wouldn't struggle with having to get it open. 

When she exited, she turned to close the heavy door tightly behind her and the keypad beside it beeped in recognition. It locked by itself and Max slowly turned away from that to stare headlong through a dimly lit hallway. Only one light illuminated the way forward as she held her hand up to drag across the wall, making sure she could catch herself in case she somehow tripped over her own feet which _has_ happened before. 

After climbing up a small flight of stairs, Max found herself in an old barn with a large red truck parked nearby, its engine rumbling in waiting. 

Through the driver's side window, she saw Nathan with a hand buried deep into his hair, his body bouncing within the seat as though nervous. Max rounded the vehicle through the back and coughed when inhaling some of the toxic fumes it pumped out through the exhaust pipe. 

"Compensating for something?" She joked upon entering the truck and was immediately hit with a strong stench that she couldn't name.

Nathan ignored that completely as he glanced back at where she exited from to see the wooden doors that kept the operation hidden wide open.

"You couldn't shut the entrance to the dark room?" He snapped at her. 

"I . . did." She answered calmly.

He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. 

"Take a look, Einstein. You obviously didn't." 

Max followed the trajectory of where he was pointing at to see what he was referring to. She hadn't even thought of there being a second set of doors.

"Well, sorry. I didn't know." 

"Whatever," Nathan muttered acidly as he got off the truck, slamming the door behind him hard enough for the windows to rattle violently. 

Max flinched in response to it, her already strong dislike of him growing. He had no reason to be mean towards her, especially after she kept his little secret. 

"Can't fucking believe this," She heard him grumble under his breath as he reentered. 

"Can't believe what, Nathan? That I, like you, don't see the severity of Mark's transgressions?"

He scoffed, shaking his head in bewilderment.

"You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, _Max_." 

The way he spoke her name so venomously and full of loathing had her grinding her teeth harshly together. 

"I know well enough." She lied, arms crossing in front of her as he drove the car a few yards forward. 

"No, I don't think you do. What is he to you, huh? He has to mean something if he trusts you enough to keep quiet about all this."

"Funny, I could ask you the same thing." Max shot back, refusing to tell him _anything_ regarding her budding relationship with Mark.

A growl rumbled from Nathan's throat and just as she was beginning to think he'd lash out at her, he forced himself out of the truck again to close the doors to the barn. 

She relaxed back into the seat, breathing out a relieved sigh from his departure. Good thing she now had a knife to defend herself with in case he got physically violent with her again like before. How far were they from Blackwell? It was going to be _hell_ sharing the same small space with him and even more so if the drive was long. She recalled it being long when in her drug-filled stupor or maybe it just felt that way. It could be different this time around.

Max remained silent as Nathan piled himself back in. He mimicked her by doing the same as he jerked the truck in gear and sped off, the dirt driveway caving underneath the tires and kicking up tiny pebbles and rocks up in its wake. 

She didn't initiate further conversation with him even though part of her wanted to. She wanted to know how he got mixed up in all of this, what he gained from it and what his relationship with Mark entailed. Was it on a friendly basis or something more? It was hard imagining Mark being romantically involved with anyone, especially a student. Yes, herself included.

Her thoughts were derailed when Nathan's low voice broke through them. He was mumbling to himself as he drove, both hands clutching tightly on the wheel, his knuckles pure white. Max hesitated a moment, debating on whether she should keep quiet or pry. She had a feeling he wouldn't appreciate being asked if he was okay when there was evidence within the truck itself that he was not. 

The disposable phone Mark contacted him with lay beside her, cracked from misuse and the scent her nose has grown accustomed to was none other than marijuana; it's unique scent emitted from the glove compartment in front of her. The interior of the vehicle was nothing to marvel at. The leather of the seats had tears of abuse and the space where a radio should be was completely empty. 

"Hey," 

His voice halted her observation of her surroundings as she stole a glance up at him. An anxious crease embedded itself in his forehead, his pink lips distorted into a long frown. 

"Hand me a blunt. There," He pointed to the glove compartment where she already guessed it'd be.

"Why should I?"

"Because I fucking said so, that's why." He hissed through clenched teeth, annoyed.

"I don't think it's safe to smoke and drive at the same time." She said, making no move to do as he instructed. 

Nathan threw her a dubious look, a tight smile splitting across his face. 

"Are you fucking serious? You were kidnapped and drugged by your photography teacher and you're telling _me_ what isn't safe? You're delusional." He spat angrily, marginally swerving on the opposite lane. 

Max's body tensed in fear when that happened and she decided it was best not to anger him any further; she didn't want her body smeared across the street due to an accident caused by an angry outburst. 

"How am I delusional?" She asked in an attempt at turning the subject around. 

A dry chuckle bubbled out from him, his head slowly shaking back and forth. 

"Stupid, too. I get it though. It's 'cos he's hot and famous, right? You want a piece of that to boost your own career." 

Her jaw dropped at his accusation. How _dare_ he.

"Far from it, _bub_. I happen to appreciate what Mark is doing, no matter how unconventional it is."

He scoffed. "Even if it means murdering those who find out too much?" 

Max's mouth dried up, her muscles rigid. He was rambling out of anger, he had to be. Mark couldn't have killed anyone. He didn't kill _her_. That had to mean _something_ , right? 

"A-ha, so he _hasn't_ told you much of anything, has he? He's a killer! He killed Rachel Amber out of-" 

Realizing his mistake, he cut himself off and cursed, slamming his hand down on the wheel. Max jerked back from the violent outburst and moved as far away from him as she could. She could easily imagine Nathan Prescott killing someone out of a fit of rage than Mark Jefferson under any circumstance. Then again, she never expected Mark to commit crimes such as kidnap so really, anything was possible. 

She looked out onto the winding road in front of them and noticed how fast they were going. He must be in a rush to get rid of her.

Rachel Amber. She recalled Chloe pinning up posters of that girl and now hearing that Mark possibly could've killed her made Max's head spin. 

"Why do you accuse Mark of killing Rachel Amber?" 

"I've already said too much." He responded, his voice soft and lax. "If you mean anything to him, which you don't, then he'll tell you. You're nothing but a puppet to him now." 

"Like you?"

Instead of displaying anger, he glanced over at her sadly. Max never thought she'd see sorrow swim within Nathan Prescott's eyes. It was such a foreign emotion for him to express and he instantly covered it up by refocusing his attention back onto the road. 

"Yeah, like me." 

────────────────────────

Nothing else was discussed between them after that. Max decided to give Nathan his dope and he instantly mellowed out after a few puffs. Much to her surprise, he offered her a hit which she politely declined.

Luckily, they arrived at Blackwell without further incident and she scurried out of his truck and towards the dorms as fast as she could without a word of goodbye or gratitude. She knew they weren't going to get along following this debacle especially after seeing his vulnerability. 

If Nathan hated being under Mark's thumb so much, why didn't he just cut off ties with him and report him to the authorities? It didn't make any sense unless Mark somehow had leverage over him that could easily destroy his young life. That was entirely plausible. Her mind soon drifted to Rachel Amber as her eyes fell across a poster within the girls dorms. She didn't know if she should believe Nathan. He was passionate about it enough, but that could be the voice of a guilty conscience. Max didn't know what to believe and she spared herself another headache by dismissing it altogether. 

Once in the comfort of her dorm, she breathed out a hefty sigh and flopped face-first into her bed. Morning classes have already started and she was in no mindset to attend them, or school at all today. Her head was too wrapped up with Mark, his goals, intentions and murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get a lot more interesting, folks. Stay tuned for the next update! I can't promise how soon or far it'll be, unfortunately.  
> (╯︵╰,)


	13. No Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! Here's my gift to all who's come this far. 🤗 Thank you for every kudo, hit, and comment. I cherish each and every one of them. 
> 
> Also, a warning: this chapter contains sexual assault. Slightly graphic, but very short.  
> You've been warned!

"Holding the camera properly is very important in photography," Mark said as he traveled throughout the classroom. "When not using a tripod or monopod, what do we use?" 

"Our hands." Alyssa blurted, her tone dull and devoid of enthusiasm.

"That's right, we use our hands. You need a steady pair of them if you're looking to take a decent shot. You don't want your photos to show up blurry, after all. This is where shutter speed comes into play. If it's too slow, any unnecessary movement will cause distortion in your photo, so it's vital to know what size lens you're using to better understand how fast or slow your shutter speed needs to be. Easy, right?" 

The bell rang immediately after his lecture, signaling the end of class. Mark was relieved to finally be off for lunch and free from the kids who either paid no attention to him at all, like Hayden, or paid _too_ much attention to him, like Victoria. As per the norm, the fashionable blonde went up to meet him at his desk and leaned over it provocatively with her ass stuck up in the air. As much as he wanted to show his distaste for her licentious behavior towards him, he plastered on the best generous smile he could muster.

"Today's subject was really interesting, Mr. Jefferson." She murmured, barely containing the salacious timbre in her voice. "I was wondering if you could give me extra lessons. My hands tend to tremble and I could _never_ get the perfect shot that way." 

Mark's eyes narrowed the slightest bit, his fake smile dropping. 

"Perhaps some other time, Victoria." He politely declined, snatching up the keys from the drawer of his desk and motioning for her to leave. 

She pouted dramatically as she stomped to the door with Mark following far behind. 

"I bet if Max asked, you wouldn't hesitate to oblige." She muttered. 

"Oh yeah?" He challenged as he closed the door behind him and locked it. "What makes you say that?" 

"I've seen the way you look at her," Victoria said, her voice small and barely audible.

"I look at Max the way I look at every student in my class." 

"Not true," She looked up at him sternly. "You look at her like you want to . . . want to . . ugh, I don't know. Like you want to devour her or something." 

Mark chuckled and shook his head.

"Baseless accusations, Victoria. Now unless you have anything else to say, may I carry on?"

He didn't wait for a response as he rounded her tall, petite frame and went on his way. He heard her huff behind him as he left. He wasn't threatened by her. Even if she reported him to the principal, he was safe from any penalties, especially when there wasn't any proof of what she was accusing him of. Besides, looking at her was harmless. Aside from the kiss he pressed to Max's neck while she was unconscious, he made no real move on her unless he counted the light caresses on her perfect cheek, which he didn't. He admired her beauty, purity, and innocence and he wasn't about to toil with that on account of his own desires. 

When he didn't see Max in class, he _did_ feel a pang of disappointment; he just couldn't get enough of her image. As he exited the school and headed towards the faculty parking lot, he made a mental note to develop and print out that photo he took of her so he could carry it around. That way, should the desire arise, he could look at it and praise it wherever he was. Or he could ask for one that she's taken herself. That'd truly be a gift. 

Unlocking the doors to his car with the click of a button, he caught sight of Nathan as he strolled up to him, tapping his fingers along the sleek roof of the luxury vehicle. 

"Gotta admit, wasn't expecting to hear from you until the Vortex Club party this weekend." Nathan said as he came to a stop a few paces away from Mark. "I did as you asked and brought that wench back here safely. Now I want what you promised me."  
   
"Did you two play nice?" Mark asked as he unbuttoned his blazer to free himself a little. Then he opened the car door and reached inside for the brief case on the passenger's seat that held what Nathan craved.

"Hardly. She's weird and wouldn't give me my ganja when I asked for it."

Mark frowned as he reemerged from the car, a bag of cocaine in hand. 

"Quit sounding like a brat, Nathan. It's inapt, especially for someone who is supposed to be my pupil." 

Nathan sighed and looked down, ashamed for disappointing him.

"Sorry Fa- . . Jefferson. It won't happen again." 

"See that it doesn't." He snapped, handing the bag over to the teen who snatched it as fast as a toddler would with candy. 

"Did she smoke any?" Mark asked, trying to sound casual when inside he was an anxious mess. She needed to stay _pure_.

"No, she's a total square." 

Relief flooded through him like a cool stream of water and his growing admiration for her skyrocketed. Max was so unlike all the other's. He just hoped she wouldn't get dirty like Rachel . . or Kate. He still hasn't fully decided on whether he wanted to take her to the dark room after what Max told him of her specific choice of filthy words. It may have just been a slight hiccup of character. Kate wasn't one to flaunt herself that way to anyone, not even him.

"No, she's responsible." Mark countered. "Now, I'd like to get to lunch. Pocket that and don't tell anyone where you got it."

Nathan rolled his eyes as he shoved the bag deep into the pocket of his red jacket.

"You _know_ Frank Bowers sells the same shit." 

"Yes, but he stopped selling it to you because . . . ?" Mark trailed off as he slid into the car. 

"Because he's an asshole." Nathan retorted. 

"That's not what you told me last time. Now go. We've talked long enough." 

With that, Mark slammed the door to his car shut and reversed out of his parking spot. Nathan looked around, suddenly paranoid as he walked out of the lot and towards the dorms.

────────────────────────

When Max's eyes fluttered open to darkness, she knew she'd slept throughout the rest of the day. The sleepiness must've been another side effect of the drug so it wasn't exactly _her_ fault.

 _'Second week of school and you already missed a day. Way to go, Max.'_ She inwardly berated herself as she sat up in bed to rub her bleary eyes. After checking the time and seeing how late it was, she groaned and dragged herself to her laptop. With her sleep schedule officially fucked, she decided to hop online to the chatroom for entertainment. Most of its inhabitants would be logged in, surely. 

A smile lit up her face when she saw that she wasn't alone. Even ' dastardbastard ' was online. Out of everyone in the group, Max got along with him the most. She didn't know if it was because of their similar roots from having been born in Arcadia Bay or what but it was nice to have at least one person within the chat who made her feel like she belonged.

It was this moment when they finally decided to set a date to meet; thirty minutes from now at a local lounge. The suddenness of it threw her for a whirl and if it'd been under any other circumstance, she'd have said no, but since she had nothing better to do, she agreed. 

First, she chose to take a quick shower and brush her teeth. To her relief, she didn't come into contact with anyone and was soon delving into her closet for an outfit. It didn't take long to pick out what she wanted to wear. Max was minimalistic and simple and it showed through her attire. She dressed up in a red shirt with an ouroboros symbol printed in the front, black jeans and an equally black thin sweater followed by her bag that she emptied out completely for her camera. 

Finally, she retrieved the knife left on the covers of her bed and smiled, remembering fondly of how she came to it. Mark had given it to her without hesitation and she intended on carrying it with her wherever she went. Besides, one could never be too careful when meeting up with someone online. It was dangerous and that danger somehow excited her.

After placing the knife in her back pocket and combing through her damp hair to free it from tangles, she plucked her phone from its port and took her leave. Halfway down the hall, she noticed the door to Dana's room was slightly ajar and she peered in to see what was going on inside, if anything. There she saw Dana painting her toenails and Juliet lounging back in the couch against the wall, feet propped up on the table dead center in the cluttered teenager's room. 

"That's what Victoria said, anyway." Juliet chatted on, unaware of the presence lingering outside the door. "Personally, I think she's lying. Of all the students in his class, Max Caulfield is the one who catches his eye? Yeah right." 

"I don't believe it either. I think she's just trying to stir up drama since her attempts at flirting with him fail every time." Came Dana's reply. "Besides, having relations with a student, sexual or otherwise, is a federal offense. Jefferson could go to jail."

"I mean, she's eighteen, a legal adult so I really don't see the big deal." Juliet said knowingly.

Dana gasped softly. "She's eighteen? I didn't know that." 

Max backed away from the door, livid at Victoria for spreading such a vicious, _false_ rumor. She didn't even need to know the details of it, the fact remained: she was spreading lies as _nothing_ romantic or sexual was occurring between them even though she wanted it to. Maybe not the latter just yet but . .

_Ugh, get it together Max. He's not interested in you, get over it._

And so she did. Or tried. Perhaps spending time with the person behind the ' dastardbastard ' account will help.  
Keeping as quiet as possible, she slithered through the shadows towards the exit and kept light on her feet whilst making her way down the stairs. It was good there weren't any security cameras anywhere otherwise it'd make this trip a lot more difficult. 

The refreshing night air greeted Max as soon as she stepped out, the full moon casting its pale fingers down on her in greeting. She inhaled deeply as she walked down the lit path, eyeing the bricked wing where Principal Wells resided in. Fireflies flitted across her vision and she looked to see where they were going. Towards the light, of course. They added to the calm atmospheric surroundings and she couldn't help but snap a photo of it. Always take the shot, Mark's number one rule of photography. When she wasn't spacing out or too wrapped up in her thoughts, she did pick up what he'd said in those first two days of class and remembered hearing those words exactly. They stuck out to her, for some reason. 

Placing both the photo and her instant camera into her bag, Max resumed her walk along the path that turned into a full-fledged sprint when she heard the doorknob to Ray's little abode rattle. She was panting by the time she reached the street, her cheeks growing warm from the small exertion of the exercise.  
Slowing down to a walk, she took a gander at her phone and saw that it was almost midnight. What was Ray intending on doing this late at night? She didn't think of it further and instead focused on her dark surroundings. A couple of cars passed her by, their blinding headlights forcing her to shield her eyes on more than one occasion. 'Rude assholes', She thought bitterly to herself.

The lounge that went by the name of 'Past Noon' wasn't far from Blackwell and after turning down an empty street, she saw it in view across from where she stood, its bright neon sign impossible to miss. A few cars were parked outside of it with one in particular looking completely out of place. Whoever owned that beauty had to be wealthy _or_ , and this was more likely, an elderly person came into their retirement money and wasted it on an expensive vehicle that they'll only be able to drive for a short while until they either break a hip or die. Max suppressed an amused smile at her inner musings as she crossed the street to the establishment, checking the car out for a final time before disappearing into the place. 

A soft song seized her eardrums and she quickly deciphered the melodious tune as being 'Love That Burns' by Fleetwood Mac. It was an almost sensual piece the way the notes flowed together in a slow, perpetual rhythm. That's to say nothing of the lyrics. 

The dim lighting casted a faint glow across the spacious area, tables, booths, bean bags and couches strewn all over the royal blue checkered carpet in no particular pattern. It gave off a chill vibe that Max quickly fell comfortable with. A small stage with a mic was situated in the corner, thick velvet curtains framed around it to sell the illusion of one you'd see in a theatre. If she had to guess, its purpose was meant standup comedy, live music, and possibly some beat poetry as well. 

There weren't many people here and not a single one of them stood out to her. None that she could discern as being Cody, the guy behind ' dastardbastard ', anyway. Choosing to sit in a booth opposite the stage and wait for him to arrive, Max pulled her phone out to dally with in the meantime. She absently hummed along with the beat of the song until a soft voice to her left lulled her away from the distraction that was her cellular device, her eyes slowly trailing towards a set of penetrating brown ones. 

He'd gently sung along to her, leaning across the table with his hand pressed firmly onto it. 'Give me your mind and your heart,' _That_ had been the lyric, but it wasn't what made her heart palpitate. Not entirely. It was his close proximity, his smothering gaze, his looming figure. He _exuded_ dominance and Max was all too willing to submit to it. 

"What are you doing here this late, Maxine?" Mark asked quietly, so quiet that she almost couldn't hear. 

Her mouth flopped opened and closed like a fish. What could she say that would suffice?

"Use your words, Max." He was teasing her now, amusement swimming within his gorgeous eyes.

A subdued giggle bubbled up from her and his chest tightened at the lovely sound. 

"I'm meeting someone here, actually." She finally managed to say under the intense strain his gaze often brought on her. 

His body tensed up, all prior amusement gone. 

" _What?_ " He hissed out between clenched teeth, not even bothering to hide his sudden misplaced anger. 

She responded instantly by shrinking back into the booth. 

"Is that wrong?" 

Before he could reply, a tall lanky male came up from behind him, waving scraggly fingers at Max. 

"Hey there, _psychotographer_." Cody greeted then looked to Mark who was beginning to lean away from her. 

"'Sup, man. Don't bounce on my account, the more the merrier, right?" 

"What are your intentions with this young girl?" Mark asked acidly, glaring daggers. 

"Whoa - chill out. Are you her father or something?" 

Max mentally facepalmed herself. Mark didn't look _that_ old. He didn't look old at all!

"Tell me," He demanded, ignoring his question completely.

Cody scowled as he tried to pass by him to join Max on the booth, only Mark wouldn't let him. 

"Nothin', dude. We're just gonna chill here for a bit then go our separate ways."

Mark didn't believe the little shit, but had little choice in arguing about the matter. He had no place here in Max's personal life, he couldn't dictate it unless . . . no. That would never happen. With one final look back at her, he took his leave, but not without throwing a final threatening glare at Cody. 

"Jeez, what the fuck is his deal? That your dad?" He muttered as he slid into the booth in front of her.

Max barely heard him. She looked at Mark's retreating back in longing as he exited the lounge. Desperate to see more of him, she gaped out the window and mouthed a 'wow' as she watched him enter that expensive car she was admiring earlier. Evidently, being an international photographer reeled in some decent dough. 

"Earth to Max," Cody waved a hand on front of her to gain her attention. 

Regretfully, she looked to Cody who, with further examination, wasn't bad on the eyes. He appeared to be in his early 20s, had shaggy platinum blonde hair, strong cheek bones, full lips and the bluest eyes she's ever seen. 

"No, he isn't my dad." 

"Who, then?" He prodded.

"My brother," She lied unthinkingly.

"He seemed real angry, like he didn't want you here with me." 

"Yeah . . ." Max agreed, her thoughts soon drifting to the person of discussion who had so quickly left her here alone without putting up so much as a fight.

He'd been angry at her yet left anyway. She supposed he had to, what business did he have to linger? None. She wasn't his.

"Hey, what happened to your wrists?" Cody changed topics as his icy blue orbs stared at the bruises imprinted there. 

She quickly pulled down the sleeves of her jacket to cover them even though the damage had already been done. It wasn't shame she felt nor embarrassment. She couldn't figure out what emotion plagued her. Something of defensiveness.

Cody cocked a thick, blonde eyebrow up at her as he waited for an explanation, but Max just shrugged daintily and shot him her best innocent smile. 

"Uhh - okay." He laughed awkwardly, choosing to drop the subject and ask if she would like anything to eat or drink. 

Despite her declining, he got up to get her something anyway. Max's gaze was trained on the exit during his absence, internally debating if she should just leave now without a word or see this outing through. Mark's unforeseeable presence threw her completely off guard and, frankly, dampened her mood. If he hadn't shown up, she'd be more invested in getting to know Cody a little better, but all she could think about now was Mark. The soft lilt in his singing voice, his suffocating eyes, the fury towards Cody and everything else leading up to his departure.

Cody, with his wide smiling face, returned carrying two bottles of soda and a big family sized bag of Hot Cheetos. 

"I hope you have a palate for sugar and spice." He said enthusiastically as he ripped open the bag and poured a generous amount of Cheetos into the palm of his hand. 

To be polite, Max took the bottle he slid across the table to her, but had no intention of drinking it. He could've slipped something undesirable in there for all she knew.

"So, you go to Blackwell?" He asked after finishing off the Cheetos and taking a big gulp of his soda, looking at her in anticipation.

"Yup," 

"Cool. I have a few other buddies who go there too. Know of Justin or Trevor?" 

She's seen them skating around the parking lot and walking down the halls of school, but hasn't had the chance, or desire, to speak with them. 

"Not personally." She answered, her eyes downcast.

From there, the conversation took a dark turn from that subject to another, bouncing between taboo kinks, illegal dog fights he bet money on, and banned films. Unfortunately, Max couldn't bring herself to get at all involved with the conversation and Cody got the hint. He offered to walk her back to Blackwell and she accepted despite finding his sudden enthusiasm for leaving odd. Plus the lecherous looks he gave her throughout the one-way discussion.

Before exiting the lounge, they threw away their trash, including the full bottle of soda Max refused to drink. Cody didn't seem to care as he walked out first into the night, holding the door open for her like the gentleman he wasn't at all known for.

The first thing she noticed when she stepped outside was Mark's missing car. A part of her hoped he'd stay behind long enough to see her exit the facility unscathed so he'd know that she was okay, that she wasn't doing anything mischievous with Cody. She'll just have to explain to him tomorrow morning at school and hope he understands. 

"You know, you're not what I was expecting." Cody said from beside her as they treked along the empty sidewalk.

"And what were you expecting?" Max replied, uninterested.

"Bigger tits and a whole lot of ass."

If it was possible, her jaw would've dropped all the way to the floor. She glared up at him, appalled that he'd say such a thing and was about to spew something equally offensive right back at him until he clamped his hand over her mouth, twisted her tiny frame around and dragged her into a darkened alleyway. A muffled scream bursted from her throat as she thrashed against him. She _knew_ something was off with him. His manner of speech had been lousy and unremarkable, but the way he looked at her was that of lust. If she wasn't so focused on thoughts of Mark, she would've seen something like this happening sooner.

_Stupid, Max. So **stupid**._

She felt his other hand rove up her body underneath her shirt and bra to cup her small breast, his fumbling fingers finding the bud of her nipple and twisting it painfully for a reaction. Max squeaked in protest and kicked back at him with all her strength. Her heel connected with his shin and he yelped in pain before shoving her roughly into the brick wall in front of her in retaliation. Her head connected with the gritty hard surface and blood from a newly formed wound gushed out from her forehead.  
Her vision blurred for a second, making her dizzy as she clumsily reached into her back pocket for the knife she brought and flipped it open. The sharp metal glimmered in the moonlight as he lunged at her, oblivious to the deadly weapon she now wielded. 

With a strangled cry, she thrusted the blade out towards him and cringed as it plunged deep into his abdomen. Blood flowed out onto the blade and hand in warm, thick rivulets. She gagged as the strong coppery scent invaded her nostrils and shoved Cody away when his body weight fell onto her from the pain and loss of blood. 

Amidst her rampant emotions, an achingly familiar whistle echoed through the alley, capturing her attention as quick and easy as he did of her with his camera. It was the first thing she heard from him on her first day at Blackwell that seemed so long ago now.

There Mark stood at the end of the alleyway, his dark silhouette outlined in red and black from his shirt and jeans. A choked sob threatened to tear its way to the surface as she dropped the bloodied knife from her grasp and ran into arms. He hesitated for a moment; he hadn't been embraced this way in years. The feeling was alien to him and he was unable to ascertain whether he liked it or not. Once the initial shock was over, he wrapped his arms around her small frame and _felt_ her cry into him. Her body melted into his, fitting into him perfectly like a missing puzzle piece finally finding the place where it belonged. It was decided; he _did_ like it.

But like all good things, it was a pleasant, but fleeting experience. Shortly thereafter, he felt something warm soak into the fabric of his shirt. Alarmed, he placed a gentle hand beneath her chin and tilted her head back to see fresh blood ooze from the gash on her forehead. Her eyes were hooded over and she looked like she was going to faint at any moment.

"Oh, Max. When are you going to stop getting yourself hurt this week?" He chided half-jokingly as he reached inside the pocket of his blazer for the silk handkerchief he kept there. 

This was partially his fault and a part of him did feel a sliver of remorse for not acting sooner, but what would she have learned if he'd done that? He wasn't some valiant hero even though she may think that of him now. A hero would've prevented her from getting injured. No, Mark was the catalyst. Against his desires, he left her alone with that guy and this was the unfortunate outcome of that action. 

She winced as he firmly pressed the silk against her head wound to stop the bleeding and her knees buckled either from being in his warm embrace or the pulsating pain wrecking havoc in her skull. She couldn't differentiate between either one. 

"Never. I like pain." She admitted lethargically, the dizzying sensation from before returning in unending waves. 

Now she wasn't speaking clearly.  
Mark cursed at himself for not stepping in earlier as he applied more pressure and brought her head closer, tucking it underneath his chin as he stared over at the body that lay haphazardly on the cold ground. Aside from the anger he harbored for himself, he was pleased to see that the punk was dead. His little bundle of innocence had killed him and he couldn't be more proud. With what he witnessed, the fucker had it coming. Hearing her continuous sniffles and sobs, it dawned on him that _unlike_ him, she felt remorse and guilt for killing another human being. She was still as innocent as ever.

Max sighed into his chest as her tears continued to flow. She heard him coax her into relaxation and felt his hand thread through her hair gently in comforting strokes. Soon, her cries died down into small hiccups as Mark held her tightly to him. His head dipped low, nuzzling his nose into her soft brown hair and inhaling her like a drug. Regardless of the heinous act she just committed and the pounding ache in her head, she felt at ease and content in the safety of his arms. Tilting her head slightly back, she locked eyes with him and her arms around him constricted as she submitted herself to his smoldering gaze. 

It was at that moment she realized how achingly close they were to each other. Her chest pressed flush against his, their hot breath fanning over the other's face in rapid succession. She could easily kiss him now if she wanted to just by standing on her tip-toes. Max wondered how he'd taste, either of mint or his own type of flavor. 

Without warning, her legs gave out from under her. Too much distress and blood loss and staring up into the dark pits of Mark's eyes didn't help matters. Her vision faded to black and she sagged against him, her head lolling against his shoulder.

Mark easily carried her weight and he tightened his grip on her to keep her body from sinking to the ground.

"Stay with me, Maxine." He cooed to her as he lifted her up in his arms bridal style and carried her to his car that he parked just outside the alley. 

He cautiously placed her in the backseat of the vehicle and made sure to angle her head with the wound facing up. That way, it'd help slow down the bleeding. To ease his building worries, he checked her pulse to make sure she was still breathing and vocally expressed his relief when he felt the steady pulse beat faintly against his fingers. 

"You're gonna be okay." He said aloud to her as he stroked her hair back, a vague smile twitching on his lips. 

A nagging part of him acknowledged that he was growing far too attatched to her in such a short amount of time while another reasoned that he was merely looking out for her.

 _'You've never done that with anyone else before.'_ He persisted to himself. 

But she was his muse and an artist always protects his muse, right? To distract himself from reflecting on what that meant, he made sure she was in a comfortable position before crawling out of the backseat and gently slamming the door shut after him. 

Now to fetch the dead body. From the glove compartment in the passanger's side, he retrieved a pair of thin black leather gloves and slipped them on as he made his way back through the alley. He picked the bloodied knife up first and foremost, giving it a good look. If he hadn't given this to her, she never would've been able to fend this guy off. If Mark hadn't decided to go out that evening and she killed him, she would be alone and afraid. And without the knife, she would've been taken advantage of. So many different ways it could've played out. The prospect of the latter possibility made him feel sick to his stomach and he turned his gaze to the body beside him. Boiling anger festered deep inside and he fought hard to keep it at bay as he forced his body into action. 

Stuffing the knife in his jean pocket, he hauled the corpse over his shoulder and hastily returned to his car, popped the trunk open and carelessly dropped the body down on a black tarp that he'd already prepared in case something like this ever happened where he needed to get rid of a body. The circumstances weren't at all what he was expecting, but at least it was being put to good use. After snagging the boy's wallet from his back pocket, Mark deftly wrapped the tarp over him, flipping him this way and that until he was wrapped up nice and snug. It was second nature to him, folding the tarp around a carcass like a burrito. The same went for every other nefarious act he committed. It came naturally to him. 

He slammed the trunk closed and pulled his phone out to dial a very powerful man's number who he had wrapped around his finger. Or so he liked to think. It _may_ be the other way around. Either way, he'll take care of the mess left behind in the alley without asking many questions. 

As he got behind the wheel and drove off towards his living place near the ocean, he listened as the line rang a couple of times before the person on the other end answered, his voice full of arrogance.

"Sean Prescott speaking." 

"Sean, it's Mark. I have a small issue that I would appreciate your help with." Mark began respectfully. 

A long pause stretched out between them. 

"What is it?" 

"Murder. A messy one." 

He heard Sean exhale heavily through the receiver and could picture him shaking his head in disappointment.

"I thought the violence in you had subsided, Mark. I never would've brought you back to Arcadia Bay and gotten you a position at the prestigious Blackwell Academy had I known you'd slip back into your old ways." He chastised him like a child.

If only he knew. Mark couldn't tell him of Max's involvement. That wouldn't blow over well so he took the blame instead.

"It's not like that, I promise." 

Sean didn't say anything for a long while as he weighed out his options. Mark may be a little cuckoo at times, but he gets the job done. He lucked out when he ran into him at an art museum back in Chicago during a business trip when Mark was much younger, grungier and incredibly aggressive. He'd seen his violent outbursts that resembled much of what he sees in his son Nathan, only more so to the point where he entered physical brawls. Sean was probably the closest thing he ever had to a real father figure and he altered his ways, buried his anger and pain and became the person he was today after a few talks they exchanged during his time there. Of course, those sessions with the therapist he hired probably helped him too.

They kept in contact with one another as Mark finished up his college courses in photography. During the peak of his fame in the 90s was when they fell out of touch for a while. Understandably so. Sean knew how wild those after parties got when celebrating a successful magazine session. Despite this, he still followed Mark's career and was impressed with his work; he even bought a few of his prints to show his constant support of the newborn public figure. 

Following the years after his massive success when he took a detour around the states to lecture in schools all over, Sean reached out to him and they've since rekindled their friendship. However, in bringing him back to his hometown of Arcadia Bay, that friendship had quickly morphed into a partnership, of sorts. Sean saw a use to his skills as a photographer and Mark had a compulsion in using unwilling models for his photos. It worked out perfectly and they both benefitted from it. 

In short, he was talented and with talent, comes cash and with cash comes power. Of course, Mark also took a percentage of the profits from his work, as he should, and Sean wasn't willing to let that go over a meager murder that could easily be covered up with a handful of threats to the law enforcers under his thumb and maybe some hush money as well just to be on the safe side.

"Very well, but this is the last time. I mean it. Dispose of the body and I'll take care of the rest." He paused for a moment then said, "For putting me through this trouble, I expect three submissions for this year's avant-garde exhibition. No less." 

"Not a problem." Mark said without skipping a beat. "Thanks, Sean. I won't repeat this mistake." 

"Hmm. I'll believe _that_ when I see it."

The line cut off and he smiled triumphantly to himself.  
They were safe. Everything was going to be fine.


	14. Hard Lessons

The first of her five senses gradually came to her after a time. It was the sense of touch; cool air nipped at her cheeks, her body encased in quite the opposite. Warmth warded away the cold October air as Mark carried her into his condomodiam. He flicked the switch to the living room on, bathing everything he owned within it in a pale white light, then placed her carefully down on the cushioned L-shaped couch. Shortly after, he noticed her lids begin to tremble, a telltale sign that she was slowly becoming conscious and for a brief moment, he stood there to take in her natural beauty. No worry lines creased her forehead, no furrows of her brow or fear smeared on her face. All of those things ravaged her purity, distorted it until it was unrecognizable. 

Yet he loved bearing witness to the corruption. More so, capturing those inspiring moments with a camera. If he wanted, he could fetch one now and snap several as she roused up from her fainting spell. 

The thought occured to him three minutes too late. Her eyes fluttered open and looked vacantly up at the stark white ceiling. He watched as confusion warped her facial expression which then transitioned to recollection all in the span of a few seconds. Seeing that shift captivated him as strongly as the purity of her image.

When her sleepy gaze finally shot over to Mark - who was hovering nearby similar to the way he did that night in the dark room - she pondered over whether he looked at her in the same regard. Fascination, eagerness, and something else she couldn't describe.

"Déjà vu," She murmured, her voice slightly scratchy.

A grin twitch at his lips. 

"How do you feel?" He asked, leaning forward the slightest bit to examine the bloody cut on her head, determining the need for stitches.

Seeing where his eyes were directed brought her attention to the ache thrashing its way through her cranium thanks to the gash Cody inflicted on her.  
Thinking of that slimeball made her want to hurl and she quickly sat up from her laying position in a feeble attempt to keep what little food was in her stomach there. Mark moved back the moment she did, frowning. That more or less answered his question.

"Take it easy, Max." He urged, placing a firm hand to her shoulder. It provided little consolation.

"I'll be right back." 

Max watched him disappear behind a wall that led to where she assumed the bedrooms were before focusing in on herself. She _killed_ a man and his blood was literally on her hands. They felt sticky as she flexed her fingers over and over, the memory of jabbing the knife in his stomach repeating in her head. The oily consistency sickened her, as did the faint feeling of Cody's hands on her. She wish she'd twisted the blade to amplify his pain before his death.

To distract her thoughts from wading too far into the recent events that brought her here in the first place, she turned her energy on taking in her surroundings.

She never imagined she'd be sitting in Mark Jefferson's living room. Even though the circumstances weren't ideal, she was still happy to be here. There was something intimate about being in the place where he lived. When not at Blackwell or hanging around in midnight lounges, he dwelled here. 

By the sounds of the quiet ocean waves and how spacious the living area alone was, she guessed this was a cozy condomodiam that overlooked the ocean and she could only imagine how breathtaking the view was from his bedroom. That area was off limits to her, however, for obvious reasons. She had no business being inside there where Mark possibly was now doing who knows what.

As expected from an artist, paintings and famous photographs hung along the plain white walls. One she recognized as Benoit Courti's work. It was a monochrome shot depicting a man immersed in a dark pool of water, his hands laying limply over the edge and his face obscured by shadows. She was at a loss for words as she stood up from the plush cushions of the standard white couch and approached the stunning image. Beside it was another piece of Courti's - equally monochrome only showcasing an entirely different image of both a feminine and a masculine hand bound together by rope. 

Both were beautifully poetic in their own way and she could see the parallel of the picture's and of her confusing relationship with Mark. Him being drowned in his own needs and obsession and both of them inexplicably bound to one another whether they wanted to admit to it or not. 

"Those are both limited edition prints."

Max whirled around to see Mark standing by the entrance to the hall with a first aid kit in hand. 

"They're beautiful. Benoit is one of my favorite photographers." She confided in him as he gestured for her to sit back down on the sofa. 

She practically hopped back onto the couch cushion as Mark lowered himself down on the one beside her. He placed the kit on the coffee table in front of them and popped it open for the vinyl gloves. Last time she saw him in gloves, he was looming over her and taking photos. Now, he was tending to her extremely nasty head wound. How drastic times have changed. 

"Yeah? Who's your all-time favorite photographer, hmm?" 

She could hear the light amusement in his voice and relished it as he finished slipping the gloves on and reached for the cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide. Max wasn't at all anxious for the impending sharp pain the peroxide will undoubtedly unleash on her gash. She was looking forward to it.

"If I say Joel-Peter Witkin, what would you do?" She teased him with a playful smile.

"I'll give you an F." He teased right back before dabbing the damp cotton ball over and along the cut. 

He held her head still with his free hand which, unbeknownst to him, brought her immense comfort. She exhaled a content sigh through her nose as Mark worked meticulously in fixing her up. His hands were methodical, unwavering as they cleaned the wound, flushed it out and sewed it back up good as new all while asking her between intervals if she was alright, if he was hurting her in any way. 

"I'm not as fragile as I look, Mark. I can take a few scrapes and bruises." She commented. 

He chuckled at that. 

"After what you've been through, I believe you." He agreed, tossing her a warm smile as he ripped the gloves off and discarded them on the table. 

Being close to him like this filled her with such elation. It was almost overwhelming, being in his home with him sitting only inches away from her. 

"Could I get a kiss?" She asked quietly, shy. 

His face darkened, his smile falling at her question.

"On my boo-boo," She hastily added, detesting that frown of his. "Right here." She pointed her index finger right at the cut. "Like a parent would their child." 

It was difficult for him to say no to her when she looked so open and innocent. And really, how could he deny that face? Slowly, he leaned closer to her and pressed his lips against the 'boo-boo', as she called it. Max would savor that kiss for as long as she was able. It was soft and warm, everything she imagined it to be. 

"Better?" He murmured, pulling back from her. 

Max was completely and utterly breathless. She could only nod in answer as he snagged a large bandage from the kit and placed it carefully over the wound. 

"You need to be more careful, Max. You've gotten hurt more this week than the average person does in a whole month." He gently chided her as he stood to his feet. 

Dragging herself out from the pleasant daze he put her in, she registered his words and nodded compliantly. She liked to think he'd help her with future mishaps involving abuse on her body like he did just now, but knew, deep down, that it was just a fantasy - something that will never happen.

"I will." She promised as she followed his movements by standing up beside him. 

Smiling softly, his eyes trailed down her face towards her bloodied clothes. No way was he going to allow her to be consistently covered in that boy's gore. It angered him just seeing the dark blotchy stains that ruined the stitchings of the apparel. 

"You're in much need of a shower." He told her as he placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her down a short lone hallway where the guest bedroom and bathroom were located.

He noticed the flash of hurt dart across her face and snickered, shaking his head. 

"You're covered in blood, Max." He reminded her, prompting her to glance down and blush profusely in embarrassment; how could she forget stabbing someone so deep that blood gushed all over her? Mark had that effect on her.

"I'll bring you a fresh set of clothes. Be mindful of the bandage, wouldn't want it getting wet." He said while parting ways, closing the door to the bathroom gently behind him. 

Max giggled at his concern over the bandage; he sounded like such a dad. With him gone, she took a moment to regather her thoughts and give herself a good, long look in the mirror. She appeared less pale than she has in recent days. A touch of color gave her face more liveliness and definition, something she hasn't had since attending school at Blackwell. She didn't know what drained her most, the schoolwork or her complex developing relationship with her teacher. Most likely the latter.

Suddenly feeling sticky and filthy, she slowly peeled off her black jacket and shirt that was still damp from all the blood. It began to coagulate during the drive to Mark's apartment and she fought back the bile that rose from her throat at the horrible stale stench and grisly sight. Death, she was intrigued by, but not the bodily fluids that poured from the body as a result. 

Her clothes pooled on the white tiled floor and once she was completely bare, she moved to turn the shower on hot. Steam arose from the stall and Max welcomed the heat against the biting cold of the bathroom as she carefully stepped inside, pulling the frosted glass door closed after her. She scrubbed herself clean with the scalding water that pelted down on her small body, burning her soft skin raw. 

Cody's blood cascaded down her legs and swirled down the drain, diluted a lighter shade of pink due to the water. Max couldn't stand looking at it. She kept her eyes trained on the mosaic of dark colored tiles in front of her. So concentrated on her efforts, she didn't hear Mark enter. He carried a bundle of his clothes for her to dress into and placed it on the light grey marble countertop beside the sink. With some effort of his own, he kept his gaze from straying to the stall where Max was. After her frightful experience at the hands of another male violating her body, he granted her the luxury of privacy and kept himself from seeing it bare. Not that he could through the frosted glass; it was nothing but a blur of pale ivory. 

She didn't seem to have noticed his presence and he quickly made his exit to keep it that way. With her means of garments taken care of, he went to take a shower of his own. 

It was a hasty one. He didn't want to leave Max unattended for too long. 

When he emerged through a haze of steam from the private bath of his bedroom, he walked out into the room with his deep crimson button up shirt in hand, a thick fluffy towel wrapped around his waist. He examined the blood stain on the back of it and could easily make out the shape of Max's hand there in a deeper shade of red. If he'd only taken her when he wanted, when he first saw that fucker, none of this would've happened. 

After rolling up the piece of clothing into a ball and shoving it into a large plastic bag he prepared beforehand, he hurriedly dressed into an old pair of slim fitted jeans, industrial rubber boots and a white muscle shirt as his thoughts wandered back to Max. He knew better than anyone the effect murder had on someone and although her actions were more than justified, it could still be metally scarring. 

He could remember _his_ first kill if he cared enough to bother himself with it, but it was a meaningless memory that he'd rather not dig back up to the surface. Thinking of digging, he had to bury the body before it rotted away in the trunk of his car; he had time. By now, rigor mortis was probably already setting in. 

"Max?" Mark called out as he stepped from his room to the living area. 

"I'm here," She answered meekly from her sitting position in the same place she was before on the sofa.

The articles of his clothing looked far too big on her small frame; his boxer briefs nearly went all the way down to her knees and one of his many white button ups didn't look any less severe in its drastic overbearing size, its cuffs going well past her hands. 

"How're you holding up?" He asked as he moved to sit beside her.

The couch dipped down from his weight and she had to adjust herself slightly to keep her body from tipping towards him. 

"I think I'll be okay, eventually." She responded in that same small voice, her legs bunched up to her chest with her arms wrapped around them. "I can still feel him on me; his hand gripping my chest, his hot breath running down my neck -- why didn't you stop him, Mark? You were there, watching, weren't you? You could have stopped him."  
His lips pressed together in a harsh thin line. Yes, he'd been watching, but he was no hero and a lesson needed to be learned. 

"One thing you should know about me by now, Maxine, is that I am not some valiant savior come to save you from everything unpleasant in this world. You saw my obvious disapproval of your meeting up with this stranger, could _hear_ it in my voice, and still pursued an evening night out with him."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Hot anger slowly built up inside her, small hands forming into fists. 

"Are you _blaming_ me for what happened?"

She took his silence as a 'yes' and physically lashed out at him before she even realized it, shoving him until he nearly fell off the couch. Mark was willing to take every blow of her anger, but only within reason. When he almost stumbled off the couch, his instincts kicked in and he grabbed her wrists tightly, pinning them back behind her to the arm rest, his body now hovering closely over hers. 

"Why didn't you fight harder? You could've taken me away from him!" She hissed out between her teeth.

"Fight _harder_? I'm a photographer, not an MMA fighter."

Despite her anger, she laughed dryly, but all too soon, the humor fled as she struggled against him, pulling uselessly at her wrists that were held captive in his tight grip. The bruises from the night before bloomed to life under his brutal grip and she had to bite back a shameful moan the ringing pain brought her. She didn't have any remaining energy to reflect on what the hell that meant as she looked up at him and greedily swallowed down the heady image of his legs straddled on either side of her hips; the toned muscles of his arms and chest flexing with every move she made and the dangerous look in his brown eyes that made her stomach drop. They were roaming over her body and she couldn't suppress a violent blush from spreading across her cheeks. He was breathing heavily, imagining how her soft skin would feel against his in a fit of passion, how easily he could mold and break it beneath his touch. His cock twitched in response to his lewd thoughts as he wrapped one hand around both wrists to adjust his glasses that had fallen an inch off from the bridge of his nose. 

She wanted him to touch her, to help rid herself of the memory of Cody's fumbling hands and replace it with Mark's cultivated ones. Surely he knew how and this time, it'll be desired. Her back arched indulgently towards him and he audibly responded with a low groan rumbling deep inside his throat - she was testing him. Again.

She wiggled beneath him, her thighs rubbing together to alleviate some of the pressure that begged for attention. He noticed this and wedged his thigh between her legs to keep her from doing it again. She was acting like a bitch in heat and he didn't like it. Max pushed back another moan that threatened to burst out when his thigh pressed against her core, adding fuel to the fire. Looking at him now through her lust-filled haze, she realized how prurient she was acting. It was shameful and impure. Just as she opened her mouth to spew multiple apologies over her horrible behavior, his free hand lowered down to her chest to button up the shirt she wore, hiding the cleavage that would've driven any normal man crazy.

"Our relationship is purely professional, Maxine. Do you understand?" 

She wanted to be stubborn and say 'no'. Maybe he'd hurt her if she did and she'd welcome any physical pain over the emotional one where she could already feel tears stinging behind her eyes. It hurt. He desired her, that much was clear from the prominent bulge of his pants, but he didn't want her enough to despoil her purity, even if it meant taking it for himself.

Wordlessly, she nodded her head in understanding until his hand seized her jaw roughly, painfully.

" _Say it_ ," He harshly demanded. 

It wasn't the strain he had on her jaw that made her obey and vocally say that she understood, but rather the hopeless fact that she couldn't deny anything of him even if she tried. It was utterly pathetic but completely worth it to see that rewarding, satisfied grin of his. 

"Good. Now, I have a body to dispose of." He said as he pushed himself off of her.

Absent from his threatening touch, she rubbed soothing circles around her wrists as she sat up and watched him disappear into his bedroom for a brief moment before he reappeared with a black bag in his hand. He carried that bag to the bathroom Max bathed in earlier to fetch her bloodied clothes. He tied the end of it closed as he reentered the living room and plopped it down on the nearby loveseat. 

Max stared blankly at the bag, her fingers idly caressing the smooth fabric of the cushions beneath her. While she didn't fully believe _she_ was to blame for Cody's inappropriate actions, she did want to remedy the mistake of going out with him and dragging Mark into her mess. He didn't have to help her yet he did. 

Without further deliberation, she blurted out, "Can I help?" 

Mark was taken aback momentarily, but was quick to regather bearings. He shouldn't be surprised by what comes out of her mouth at this point. 

"If you think you can handle it." 

"I _can_ ," She stated defiantly. 

──────────────────────── 

They drove out to the outskirts of town between Arcadia Bay and Portland. As expected, there were no signs of civilization out here. Max carried the shovel and flashlight as Mark propped the body over his shoulder with ease.

"I'm scared, Mark." She said to him as they entered the foliage of a densely wooded area; the perfect place to bury a dead body. "I've seen too many episodes of Snapped and Forensic Files to believe that I could get away with murder."

"There is a big difference between you and the people you've seen on those TV crime shows." He responded, adjusting Cody's stiff body to rest more comfortably on his shoulder. 

"What difference is that?"

"Me,"

"You?"

"Yes. I have friends in high, or rather, _low_ places thanks to my career. I've already contacted them and it's all taken care of. All _we_ have to do is get rid of the body. No body equals no evidence of a crime ever being committed. You're safe."

Hearing that diminished some of her worries, but not all. 

"But . . what about the blood left behind in the alley? There had to have been a lot of it."

"Max," He stopped walking and turned to face her. She mimicked him, directing the beam of light onto his person. "Do you trust me?" 

She didn't exactly have any reason _not_ to trust him. He's never lied or kept anything from her, at least not to her knowledge.

"Yes," 

He wasn't expecting her to answer that serious question so quickly and being the way he was, he didn't fully believe her. Even after the stunt she pulled in the dark room, entrusting him with her very life, it wasn't enough. Any moment, she could turn her back on him. He was just waiting, and dreading, for that day to come. However, like that time, he could challenge her again - test her limits. See if what she said was undeniably true. 

With that thought in mind, Mark resumed their journey deeper into the woods and Max followed close behind, shining the light ahead of them. She thought it an important task in disposing a body late at night and wanted to perform well. With luck, she'll earn an approving smile from him and maybe even a pat on the head. 

_What the hell are you thinking, Max? You're not a pet._

Yet she could not deny how badly she craved the odd, affectionate gesture. 

They soon found themselves in a vast grassy clearing. From the distance, she could faintly hear a stream amongst the noisy sea of singing crickets. The sounds of nature made the darkness of the woods way less scary than it would've if it was dead silent. Of course, Mark being by her side also stifled some of her fear. 

He stopped at the edge of the clearing and dumped Cody's lifeless body heedlessly on the ground. Max gulped, averting both her eyes and the beam of light on a different spot of the earth as she handed the shovel to him. He took it from her and began the long, tedious process of digging a grave; he's performed this task more times than he would've liked. 

While he did the hefty work, she kept the light steady on so he could see what he was doing. Low grunts escaped through his lips with each plow he delivered to the dirt, providing Max with a delicious image of him making those same sounds while _he **plowed** her. _

_Enough, Max! What has gotten into you?_

_Sadly nothing_ , another, more immature part of her chimed, prompting her to scowl.

"Could you please keep the light still, Max?" He gently scolded her, annoyed.

"Sorry," She mumbled as she steadied her trembling hands.

He's made decent progress in digging a steep enough hole and the physical exertion took its toll on him. A thin sheet of sweat coated his exposed biceps, neck, and brows and she could see it glisten in the light with every move he made. He may not be brawny like John Cena, but he was lean; she could see it.

"Could I ask you something?" She said after a while. By this time, the steepness of the grave reached well past Mark's waist. 

"Go ahead,"

She hesitated for a moment, warily trying to piece together the appropriate words to use without sounding too invasive. But there was no way around it.

"You mentioned 'friends' earlier. Who are they, exactly?" 

He can understand the curiosity. She just recently learned of his criminal involvement with the dark room and now she knows that there are other people encompassed along with him. He could've kept that to himself, but didn't want her going mad with worry. What he _couldn't_ understand was why he gave a damn about her or her mental state. 

"You know I can't answer that, Max. Information like that is strictly confidential." 

She knew, but still held onto a sliver of hope that he'd give her at least a shred of enlightenment. 

"It just doesn't make sense. Why would these people bother protecting _me_?" 

He exhaled a heavy breath, both from exhaustion and annoyance. 

"They're protecting me, not you. I'm too important for them to lose." He answered ambiguously. "Leave it at that, Maxine." 

From his use of her full name, she knew he was either growing upset, annoyed, or angry. She'd quickly picked up on that in the dark room. Despite this and his warning, she pressed him for more details. Her restless, disquiet mind wouldn't allow for repose. 

"What does that even mean? Who are these people and what do they want from you?" She fretted, more concerned on his behalf than her own.

A low growl rumbled deep in his chest as he tossed the shovel out from the gaping grave before pulling himself up from it. The growl should've been a warning to keep her distance, but Max wasn't any good at those. She stepped closer to help him in some way, but he'd already managed get back to his feet on his own. The flashlight she held dropped on the ground as Mark's hand shot out to grip her throat. His hold was loose, not intending to hurt or constrict her airway; instead, it served as a warning that he could _easily_ choke the life out of her if she made one more wrong move.

"Do you or do you not do trust me?" He snarled gruffly into her face. 

Panic shot through every part of her body from the sound of his voice. How it could so easily go from smooth and calm to deep and rough in a matter of seconds made her head spin in mild delirium as his grip tightened, pulling her closer to him. 

"Answer truthfully, Maxine. I will not hesitate to throw you into that grave to rot alongside your _friend_." 

Tears stung the corners of her eyes as she gripped onto the hand held tightly against her throat. Through the pale lighting the waning moon provided, she could only see the outline of his face and silently thanked whatever benevolent being there was that the moon wasn't full and looming directly above them. She wouldn't have been able to bear the weight his intense glare brought on her. 

"You don't mean that."

Even after she'd said it, she knew she was wrong. Promptly after her declaration, her body plummeted down the hole and landed unceremoniously on the cold dirt. The earthly scent of dirt filled her nose as specks of the stuff flew up into her face when she made impact and could feel worms burrowing deeper into the earth for refuge beneath the palms of her hands.

The beam of the flashlight shot straight across the grave so she couldn't see Mark, forcing her to rely on her sense of hearing. She listened for his footsteps that moved from one end of the grave to the other and realized what he was about to do. Quickly, she pulled herself up to her feet just as Cody's corpse fell into the grave beside her. Soon, flecks of dirt piled onto her at intervals and she finally screamed, terrified that she may well be buried here alive. She'd been wrong about him, completely wrong and now it was too late. 

"Still think I don't mean it?" He grounded out as he continued to shove dirt into the grave. 

His reply came into soft fitful sobs and he plucked the flashlight up from the ground to point it at her face. Warm tears steamed down her cheeks, her bottom lip wobbling like a child's.

Dropping the shovel, he kneeled and reached his hand out to her, his thumb swiping away a solitary drop before bringing it to his lips to lick away. Salt, betrayal and sadness, a delicious combination. He found himself craving for more, but kept himself from repeating his previous ministration.

"For your safety and what sanity I have left, you will _not_ presume to know me, Maxine. I don't take kindly to that." 

"I'm sorry," She quickly apologized, wanting nothing more than to be by his side again. Being on the receiving end of his anger wasn't fun; it frightened her and she promised herself never to do so again. "I'm-" 

He hushed her by placing her finger over her lips like he did in the dark room. As before, she heeded his wishes for silence and closed her mouth obediently, giving him a sweet reminder on why he didn't kill her to begin with.

"Let me make a few things clear," He began carefully, liking the way she learned towards him in eagerness. "You are not to ask me any more questions regarding my 'friends', when I say you're safe, I mean it. Secondly, you are not to see another male privately under any circumstance. Don't try sneaking around  because I _will_ find out." 

Max clung onto every word that tumbled out of his mouth, fully acknowledging and accepting everything he dictated. She didn't care as long as he wouldn't kill her here and now.

"And finally, like Nathan, you will assist me in my underground photographic endeavors from here forth. Refuse, and you can lie with your buddy there for eternity."

She mumbled a string of incoherent 'no's' as she clawed at the earth, attempting to pull herself up from the hole to no avail.

"Do I make myself clear?" He finished authoritatively, his perceptive eyes scanning the whole of her face for any signs of perversity. 

"Yes," She answered desperately, holding her hand out for him to take. When he didn't, she snivelled, more tears threatening to spill.

With her puffy red eyes and dirty soaked cheeks, he couldn't pass up the opportunity of capturing this moment forever. It'd serve both as blackmail if she tried fucking him over _and_ a momento.

"Hold that pose." 

Max froze, looking up to see him rise back to his feet and brandish a cellphone from within his back pocket. In less than a second, the flash of the phone's camera went off - he'd taken a photo in her humiliating state for reasons she couldn't bother herself to ponder over. 

"Now, just one more thing," He said as he resumed his previous position. He stretched his hand out towards her and left it hovering close enough for their fingers to brush together but no more than that. She struggled to her tiptoes to get a grip on it only for him to pull farther away. "You failed to answer my question earlier - do you trust me, completely and without doubt? Do not lie to me." 

"I haven't lied to you so far, have I?" Her voice cracked, thick with emotion. "I trust you, Mark, but if this is going to work, you have to trust me too." 

He wanted to argue and say that he didn't need her trust, didn't want it; he could accomplish anything and more _without it_. Although he couldn't deny the appeal of putting his trust completely into someone who would never betray it or use it against him. Could he, though? It's been so long since he trusted anyone and he wasn't sure he knew how anymore.

"I don't want to be like Nathan," She continued on. "Someone you can easily toss aside when he has no further use to you. I want to be something more, someone you can count on without fear of discovery or deception. I want to be your _partner_. If I truly didn't believe in what you do, then I would've reported you to the police as soon as Nathan dropped me off at Blackwell." 

A swarm of emotions flooded through him as he listened intently to her admission. 

If he had any doubts about her trust in him, they were officially snatched away. The way she spoke so passionately about wanting to be by his side through his dark room affairs after what he'd just done to her had him reeling. Mark finally took hold of her hand and pulled her up from the grave. She gasped as her small body crashed into his, but she openly welcomed the much needed embrace. 

It was insane how tender he could be with her but also downright violent if provoked or demeaned. She knew one thing - never get on his bad side again. 

He heard her thank him repeatedly against his chest as he mindlessly flicked the dirt from her hair. She was thanking him despite the fact that he'd shoved her down there to begin with. Her gratitude was horribly misplaced, but he didn't mind. 

"I'll work on it," He promised her before pulling away to hand her the flashlight.  
He'll work on trusting her. It was a start.

From there, they resumed the burial of Cody also once known as ' dastardbastard '. She should've known better than to go alone with someone who went by that user, or go at all for that matter. For those who enjoy seeing people accidentally get killed on CCTV cameras, some screws had to be loose. 

Her rapid heartbeat gradually slowed down to its original rhythm as Mark patted down the dirt he disturbed and she trembled silently from the probable prospect of lying beneath it. If she didn't play her cards right, she will be; she knew that now. Mark wasn't one to compromise his vision with anyone and that included her regardless of how much he loved her purity and spirit. Both of them turned to walk away from the gravesite and towards the car parked some odd ways off. Max's tears had begun to dry by the time they exited the clearing.

"Perhaps we should've taken care of the body first before getting squeaky clean, huh?" He rhetorically asked followed by a deep chuckle. 

Max giggled lightly, still a little uneasy and frankly, a tad bit scared of him. His behavior back there was totally unpredictable and she truly believed he was going to bury her alive. 

Something warm and firm roped around her waist and for a split second, she thought it was a snake until she felt her hip gently collide against his own as they walked closely alongside each other.

"I can sense your discomfort, Max, but a point had to be made, a lesson needed to be learned." 

"Like with Cody," She commented. 

"Exactly. Believe me when I say that I _hated_ seeing his hands all over you. I wanted to break each individual finger slowly, rip his arms off . . . but it wasn't my fight to finish. It was yours." 

Goosebumps ran across her skin and a delightful shiver coursed through her spine. Was this his way of comforting her? Maybe so and she didn't mind it. He painted a lovely image for her. As nerve-wracking as killing Cody was, it was also liberating. 

As they walked up to the car, she had to fight the urge to lean into him lest he pull away and quite possibly punish her for it too. Professional, he'd said, strictly professional. But how could ignore how his arm fit perfectly around her? She couldn't.

"Uhm . . what about the bag of clothes?" She asked as he removed his arm from her and popped open the trunk to toss the filthy shovel inside. 

"I'll be getting rid of that tomorrow in a different location. I may even burn it." 

"Ooh, cool! We could make s'mores over the open fire." She playfully suggested, earning her a laugh from him in return. 

"That doesn't sound half bad, actually. However, it'll be during the weekend and we won't be seeing each other at all during those days." 

Max nodded, concealing her disappointment swiftly. 

"Let me guess, you'll be hanging out in local lounges all weekend?" She teased with the hope that he'll reveal _something_ of his personal life that she could cling to. 

Another amused laugh came out from him as he patted the trunk of the car whilst moving away from her, signaling for her to get inside. She did and once they were safely driving out on the road, he answered, "As you know, my work doesn't just revolve around Blackwell. The photos I've taken don't remain in those red binders you saw in the dark room. There's a business behind it and I'm not the only one in the world involved with it." 

So he _did_ sell them? 

"Please don't tell me you plan on-" 

"No," He interrupted her, voice firm. "Your portrait is for my eyes only and mine alone." He turned his head to stare at her intensely. "Do you object?" 

"No!" She exclaimed quickly. "No of course not. In fact, I'm kinda relieved. I wouldn't want just anyone seeing me in that state." 

"No one ever will," He vowed as he turned his gaze back onto the road. Perhaps he shouldn't have told her that piece of information. It went hand in hand with his so-called 'friends', but since they were now technically working together, he figured he'd let her in on at least a little of some behind the scenes tidbits.

────────────────────────

"So I can keep these?" Max asked him, gesturing to the clothes he leant her.

Due to the nippy weather that night, he offered her one of his many blazers that was dark gray in color before they headed out of his condo. She seemed to have taken a great liking to it as he's caught her several times nuzzling her nose into the cuffs to either smell traces of his cologne or to feel the rich fabric against her skin. The only thing she had on that belonged to her was her shoes and socks. 

"Not this," He said, tugging gently at the blazer. 

She pouted up at him and much to his own surprise, he found it quite adorable. 

"Why not?" 

"Why do you want it?" 

"To keep . . warm?" She said, unsure. 

"Is that the only reason?" He pressed, slightly desperate for details. 

Max knew she shouldn't lie to him even though she desperately wanted to, at least in this case. He wouldn't like the answer . . she didn't _think_ he would, anyway. 

"It's comforting to me, I can't explain why." 

He regarded her silently for a moment, his eyes scanning her beautiful face for any traces of deceit. Then he stretched his arm out to her to brush her matted hair away from her temple. It was an intimate gesture, one that spoke volumes. Whether he'd like to admit it to himself or not, a small part of him cared for her. 

"In that case, you can keep it, but only on one condition." 

Max internally celebrated as a wide smile sprung to her face, warmth flooding her being from his fleeting touch.

"Name it." 

"Give me one of your self portraits . . or 'selfie', if you'd rather." 

She bit the inside of her cheek in thought, her brows creasing together.

"What for?" She asked tentatively and instantly regretted it as the small smile on his lips dropped. 

"To keep, of course. What other reason is there?" 

A blush crept up to her cheeks, one he couldn't see through the shadows they were drenched in.

"Is that all you want?" 

Mark pressed his lips together tightly. There was an underlying meaning to her question, he knew that. _She_ knew that otherwise she wouldn't have asked using that particular wording.

"That's it." 

Disappointment plunged deep into her heart. Still, there was no harm in giving him a photograph to hold onto. She actually found it endearing. 

"I can bring you one tomorrow morning, if you'd like." She offered.

"Sounds good. Now go," He reached across her lap to open her door. "And try not to let anyone catch you on your way inside. It won't blow over well if they see you wearing my clothes." 

Max stepped out of the car and turned around, slightly bent at the waist to peer at him. 

"No one would know for a fact that these belong to you." She pointed out.

"Max, _no one_ in this hick town dresses the way I do. So yes, it's safe to say they would." 

She thought on that for a moment then shrugged. "Fair point." 

Just as she was starting to close the door, he stopped her with a whistle and when she bent to look at him again, she saw the knife she killed Cody with in the palm of his hand. 

"Forgetting something?"

She eyed the gleaming metal carefully as though expecting it to jump out to her at any moment. It was free of all blood and she suspected he must've cleaned it at some point during her lengthy shower. She may have used it to kill someone, but it was still a gift handed down to her by him so, with a sheepish grin, she took the murder weapon from his hand, bid him goodnight and hurried off. 

Max reached the dorms without incident and when she came across Victoria's room, she stuck her tongue out to the door as though it could be seen by its occupant. She'd forgotten to mention the rumors circulating about them to Mark. Although she could hardly blame herself due to how trying the night had been. Sexually assaulted by a man who was supposed to be her friend, sexually aroused by a man who is her art professor that nearly buried her alive. 

Most troubling of all was her inability to figure out if that night was the best she ever had or the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Benoit Courti is a real life photographer and his work is so mesmerizing. Y'all should check him out! A lot of his photographs gave me Jefferfeels.


	15. Missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning that nothing too exciting happens in this chapter. It's actually quite slow, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Exhaustion overcame the teenager as soon as she entered her room. Although the need for sleep was strong, she decided to strip out of the clothing Mark graciously gave her first; she refused to wrinkle them so soon now that they were hers. Removing both the shirt and blazer, she quickly dusted it clean of dirt, making sure not to miss a single stitch. Satisfied with her handiwork, Max hung them up and hid them as best she could in case anyone somehow went in here without her consent. She kept the boxers on as she face-planted the bed and went out like a light.

It felt like seconds had passed when the alarm on her phone went off, jarring her awake from her restless slumber. Nightmares plagued her for the precious few hours of sleep she got and she now wished she hadn't slept at all. Images of blood and endless graves flashed through her subconscious as she tossed and turned - a plethora of Cody's bony hands touching every part of her body as she lay naked in a deep grave, his blood coating her white skin. She'd screamed for help and saw a glimmer of hope in Mark's sudden, unexpected presence as he looked down at her tortured self. He only laughed before burying her beneath the dirt, snuffing out any light or hope for rescue. 

Thankfully, that's when her alarm went off.

Sunlight poured in through her bedroom window, the warm yellow rays greeting her through the blinds of her window. She rubbed her tired eyes as she slowly trudged to the closet for her toiletries. Her legs ached from all the walking she did last night as did her nipple. She didn't want to think of Cody, especially after having that nightmare, but his brutal touch was still there. It served as a painful reminder of what happened to her in that alley and what _could've_ happened if Mark hadn't been there. It made her wonder if he would've watched and laughed at her as she was being groped and manhandled like he did in her nightmare. Perhaps that's what it symbolized: helplessness. A warning to sharpen her heart now before it, too, got hurt. Max was never good with warnings, so she wound up ignoring it. 

Even though he briefly tormented her, the thought of Mark guiding her through last night's ordeal was the only solace she had amidst the dark. The irony of it made her laugh bitterly in contempt as she swapped the boxers she wore for something more her own.

She _killed_ another human being and her teacher _helped_ as if it was the most common thing on earth. Had he seen and buried a dead body before? She'd been so traumatized last night with the assault and almost being buried alive that she didn't have any room in her restless head for questions. Especially after he'd gotten angry at her for asking too many.

She shook her sleepy head in denial at the notion. No, he wasn't a killer; she refused to believe it until she heard it come from his lips or _sees_ him commit the act with her own two eyes. 

With all those racing thoughts shoved off to the side, Max performed her normal morning routine. After grabbing her necessities, she bathed, brushed her teeth and avoided everyone she came across to the best of her ability. She dodged Juliet's line of questioning about the upcoming Vortex Party taking place tomorrow, eased past Brooke and her constant snark, and flat out ignored Victoria's glare as she stepped out of her dorm. Max hadn't forgotten what she overheard last night between Juliet and Dana about Victoria spreading false rumors. They were dangerous and could possibly make Mark lose his position at Blackwell if they ever reached the principal's ears. 

As Max got dressed in her dorm, she pushed those rampant thoughts aside as well. She had enough to deal with and worry about. The murder she committed last night, for example. Mark's intent with her, his future victim . . . he wanted her help, but what could _she_ possibly do or bring to the table that Nathan hadn't already covered? 

Sighing, she brushed her hair and looked out towards the wall opposite from where she sat on her little couch. 

One of the only fond memories she could recall from last night was Mark's request for one of her photos. It was flattering that someone so illustrious and awe-inspiring wanted one of _her_ personal photographs and she'd be a fool not to oblige.  
She just didn't know which one to pick. Most of the polaroids on her photo memorial wall consisted of selfies, so there wasn't any shortage of that. The difficultly lied on which one she thought he'd like the most. After some thought, it dawned on her that he'd like any one of them. It showcased _her_ the way he viewed her - pure and innocent even though she was far from. 

She settled on two photos, one with her hair kissed and blown back by the cool breeze and the other where she smiled faintly in the warm sunlight back at Seattle, and placed both into her book bag. 

With that taken care of, she closed and locked her bedroom door then sped-walked to the TV lounge. She didn't receive an email from Mark last night, so she figured she didn't need to go in early to assist with whatever he needed. Poking her head in through the double doors, she saw that no one was there and relief would've flooded through her if she wasn't so nervous to flip through the TV channels in search for the news. She grabbed the remote that was nestled between the couch cushions before turning the TV on. She feared seeing a live camera feed of a crime scene at the alleyway where she stabbed Cody and her anxiety only heightened when she couldn't find it. Her shaky fingers continued to browse through the channels, her palms growing slightly damp with sweat as she kneaded the inside of her lip between her teeth. She was so engrossed in the flat screen television that she didn't hear the doors of the lounge open nor the approaching footsteps coming up behind her. 

"Boo!" A playful voice screeched, a pair of hands gently gripping her shoulders for added effect.

Max jumped up in alarm, the remote falling from her grasp and onto the floor. The cover protecting the batteries cracked open and its contents rolled across the carpet beneath the table and couches as she whirled around to face whoever was mean enough to spook her in her already fragile state. 

Warren's warm eyes and bright smile could practically light up a whole room. Neither did anything to calm her, however. In fact, she grew more panicked as her eyes frantically scoured the lounge in search for the batteries. She _needed_ to know Cody's death wasn't being reported on the news. 

Warren's smile dropped an inch when he took in the fear smeared across Max's face. 

"Hey, I'm sorry about scaring you like that. I thought since it's October . . ." He trailed off as he watched her drop to her knees and crawl across the floor, her shoulders heaving with ragged breaths. 

Concern overrode any explanation he could give in that moment as he kneeled down beside her and wrapped his arms awkwardly around her shoulders in a feeble attempt to soothe her. Max felt far from soothed as she trembled in his arms, her mind afflicted with blood and paranoia. There was only one person who could help put her rapid worries and fears to rest and that person was not the one currently holding her. She remembered Mark's warning not to be alone with any guy under any circumstance. She didn't completely understand why, though she had a pretty good idea. She wouldn't question him about it. At least not for now. 

With his warning in mind, Max drew herself out from Warren's scrawny arms and lifted herself back up to her feet. She remained quiet as she turned from him and walked to the doors leading out to the staircase. Before her hand could touch the door handle, Warren's voice broke out behind her. 

"Hold on," He called after her as he stood back up. "I originally came here for Stella. I haven't heard from her since yesterday afternoon." 

Max hadn't either. The last time she saw her was in class and they only argued about Brandon. Since those two were apparently two peas in a pod, _he_ must know where she is or what she's up to more than anyone else. 

"Have you asked Brandon?" She questioned in turn, not moving to face him since she was eager to leave. 

"You haven't heard?" 

This caused her to turn her head back at him, her curiosity somewhat piqued. 

"He was expelled from Blackwell. Apparently he's a drug dealer and the cops busted him with loads of the stuff all stored inside his truck." Warren explained with a shake of his head. "I still can't believe it. I mean, I know he did weed, but heroin and cocaine? I never even heard him _talk_ about that stuff. I dunno, something seems off with that whole thing." 

Max clearly remembered Brandon state he had a stash within his truck. It wasn't that hard to believe, but the timing was rather convenient. So soon after the incident in the library with him and now he's suddenly expelled? Mark, the only person she told about what occured in the library, must've played a hand in Brandon's expulsion and she made a mental note to thank him. 

"Well, I haven't seen or talked to Stella in a while. Maybe she can't be separated from him so she decided to leave Blackwell too?" Max suggested as she pulled the door open, an obvious indication that the conversation was officially over. "I'm sure she'll turn up." 

Warren watched her go with a long frown in place of that bright smile he started the day out with. Stella wouldn't just up and leave without telling him anything. Something ominous was happening at Blackwell, he realized, and it wasn't just with Stella's disappearance.

────────────────────────

Max's heart dropped to the floor when she came across Mark's classroom to see that it was locked. She hovered in front of it for as long as she was able until Ms. Grant noticed her unsettled state. She'd been approaching her classroom door when the young teenager caught her eye with her restless pacing and fearful look.

"Is something the matter, Max?" She asked, her forehead wrinkled with worry.

"Nope. Just impatiently waiting on Mr. Jefferson to arrive so I can turn in my photo for the contest." 

Max had always been a good liar and was fairly certain the first sentence she ever spoke was a lie. It came naturally to her. Once one lie was spoken, another would tumble right out, one after the other - an endless cycle. 

Ms. Grant's eyes squinted a little as she came closer to Max, studying her carefully like Mark would. Only Mark would see through the falsehood instantly; Ms. Grant, on the other hand, only needed a little bit more convincing. 

"Really? Could I see your photo?" 

Being the amateur photographer Max was, she had plenty of photos at her disposal to show off to the popular science teacher and plucked out a random one from her bag to sell the lie even further. It was the photo she took at the junkyard, the _only_ photo she took there. She wanted to take more, but Chloe had tugged her into that small shack and everything afterwards went to shit. For Chloe, that is. 

Ms. Grant took the photograph from her and examined it for a moment then nodded her head as though perfectly comprehending the technique used and the message behind it. There wasn't any to be found. Max simply took the shot. 

As if on cue, Mark strolled on by, his briefcase in hand with his classroom keys in the other. 

"Good morning, Max." He greeted her then turned his attention to Ms. Grant. "Lovely to see you again, Michelle." 

She acknowledged the much younger teacher with a polite smile and a light blush as Max fought off the overpowering urge to snatch the photograph from Ms. Grant's hands. She was going to show it off to him.

"You too, Mark. I was just looking at Max's photo for the contest. It's captivating in its own right." Ms. Grant said much to Max's distress. 

Mark's face lit up with a broad, closed-mouth smile as he reached out for the photo that was held out to him while Max kept up her impassive mask. To show any of her emotions now would give her too much unneeded attention and concern from Ms. Grant. She had enough of that from Warren. 

Out of genuine curiosity, she peeked up at him through her long lashes to see a flash of recognition flicker within his eyes before quickly reverting back to it usual state. 

"This is a great shot, Max." He complimented truthfully, his voice giving nothing away. 

"Thank you, Mr. Jefferson. I have a few questions regarding the contest though, if you don't mind . . ." 

Ms. Grant got the hint and took her leave after saying her farewells. Mark gave Max a hard look as he handed the picture back to her and moved to unlock his classroom door. As soon as it swung open, Max bolted inside and fell to her knees; her aching legs couldn't carry her any further and her mounting anxiety only weighed on her all the more. She'd barely had the chance to catch her depleting breath when she felt Mark's hand grip her upper arm tightly, dragging her back up to her feet as he stormed across the room to the door behind his desk. 

"What the hell is the matter with you?" He gritted out as he released her to close the door behind him. 

"Where were you?" She asked, short of breath.

"I'm a teacher, Max. There was a mandatory faculty meeting this morning." 

Max laughed dryly, finding it ridiculous that he of all people attended stupid faculty meetings when he helped her bury a human corpse last night. 

By the look of her face, he already knew what was eating at her without needing to ask again. Last nights events would horrify anyone in her mindset. Choosing to relinquish his prior annoyance with her over the top behavior, Mark placed his hands on either side of her face and tilted her head up until her big blue eyes were staring up into his brown ones. 

"I need you to calm down, Maxine." He urged her softly. 

Barely a moment went by and her tense muscles began to relax, the crease in her forehead smoothing out effortlessly. And there it was, that perfect innocence he adored so much. It radiated off from her when she didn't worry, didn't frown or wasn't scared. He didn't want her to express any of those emotions for that reason alone.

"I thought you said you'd trust me in this dilemma." He continued, staring unblinkingly into her eyes. 

"I-"

"Quiet." He ordered, refusing to hear whatever excuse she was going to say. 

Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to threaten or yell at her. Not again and especially not here. He did the only thing that came to mind and pulled her against him in an embrace. He knew he was growing _too_ fond of these. Everything between them was moving too fast and neither of them wanted it to slow down or stop. 

Max buried her face into the soft fabric of his white dress shirt as her tiny arms reached up to hook around him tightly. She didn't think she'd ever be able to do this again, much less, expect _him_ to initiate it. Affection wasn't something he gave lightly, it seemed. She's seen shots of him from paparazzi online and she noticed quickly that he was never seen with anyone to any event that she could find links to and perhaps this was the reason why. Mark never felt comfortable enough to share himself with anyone. What made Max Caulfield so different from the rest?

As her heartbeat took on a slower, normal rhythm, she realized that all she needed was the reassurance that everything was going to be OK and holding Mark to her did all that and more. Cody and the consequences of his murder could no longer haunt her.

"What am I going to do with you?" She him heard mutter more to himself than to her as he closed his eyes and buried his face into the crook of her neck. 

She wanted to thread her fingers into the thick strands of his russet hair, cup his face like he did with her, and cradle his head against her shoulder.  
It was overwhelming holding her inspiration like this with him returning the affectionate gesture. Although he possessed way more than he let on, she felt beyond blessed to be in this position with him and she silently wished for many more.

Then she reflected on his question. There was a lot he could do, but only one thing appealed to her than anything else and maybe they'd both enjoy partaking in it.

"Punish me?" She suggested in that soft voice of hers. Since she was already so close to him, he didn't have any trouble hearing what she'd said and what she said was . . interesting.

"Is that what you want? Is that what you think you need, to be punished?"

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded her head against his chest and gave his torso a light squeeze. 

Max seemed to be submissive by nature. If she did something bad or something that clearly upsets those in a more authoritative position, she shrinks back, demanding punishment for her misdoings. It made him think of her as a child and whether she did bad things on purpose to feel the pain she craved or whether her parents dished out beatings so frequently that her body either grew numb to the abuse or developed a yearning for it. 

Either way, it was a delicious concept, but he wouldn't feed into her dark desires; at least not in the way she envisions it. 

"What you did, acting like a melodramatic baby, is not something that warrants a punishment, Max." He finally said and chuckled when he felt her shoulders fall.

It was unknown how much time had passed in that closeted room that was growing hotter and hotter by the minute. Mark was the first to pull away, prompting Max to reluctantly drop her arms from him. He adjusted his glasses as he reached back to open the door behind him. 

"No more talk or mentions of what happened the other night, got it?" 

"Got it."

With that, nothing else was said in regards to the situation with Cody and his untimely murder. Nothing much _had_ been said to begin with and it didn't need to. 

"So, about your photo for the contest," Mark casually began as soon as they exited from the closet. "May I ask where you took it?" 

"A junkyard not too far off from here." She replied, completely oblivious to how much significance was held beneath the ground of the place. "My friend Chloe took me there last Saturday to get away from her step dad who happens to be the security guard here." 

He remained expressionless as she answered more of his unsaid questions. David Madsen didn't interest him as much as Chloe did. _Chloe_. Rachel mentioned that girl on more than one occasion during their numerous personal outings. She was the kind of girl Mark _didn't_ want Max hanging around with. 

"Are you close with this Chloe?" He asked, tone neutral. 

"Not anymore." 

Nodding, a subtle smile curved across his lips before he motioned towards her bag. 

"You used your gift well. I'll have that photo of yours, then." 

She blinked in disbelief at what she just heard. This was the first time he mentioned her having this supposed 'gift' and it made her wonder if he's ever used that term to describe anyone else. It was yet another question she tucked away for later. 

"I have a confession," She started sheepishly, eyes downcast. 

Now that they were more familiar with one another, so to speak, he didn't bother keeping himself from taking her chin into his hand and dragging her eyes back up to look at him directly. 

"Look at me when you speak, Maxine."

Max nodded her head and said, "Yes sir." 

A smirk he couldn't contain came to life on his mouth; she was learning.

With her chin free from his grasp, she continued on, this time with her eyes staring deeply into his own. It didn't unnerve her as much, but the habit of breaking eye contact was going to take some time to rid herself of. 

"I lied to Ms. Grant. She questioned why I was lingering outside your door and that was the first thing that popped in my head." 

Truthfully, he was glad that wasn't the photo she intended on submitting. It was beautiful, but didn't represent _her_ at all. Instead of expressing his understanding as someone in his position should, he playfully admonished her for lying to another teacher.

"You naughty, naughty girl. Lying to an adult figure and with someone as sweet as Ms. Grant. Tsk tsk." 

Max placed a hand on her hip, soft pink lips quirking off to the side as she lifted a single brow at him. Surely alluding to the events of last night wasn't a problem.

"As you know, I've done much worse." She teased right back, a mischievous glint twinkling in her eye. 

A sly grin took hold as he tilted his head to the side by half an inch. Nope, not a problem at all.

"Not by much. That was self defense. I highly doubt you could kill someone for any other reason."

"That almost sounds like a challenge, Mark." 

She could see herself killing again. If someone tried to hurt him, she wouldn't hesitate to resort to murder. Mark had quickly become one of the most important and influential person in her life and she'd barely been here a month. That wasn't really a valid excuse once she pondered over it. She's been a fan of his for as long as she could remember and has learned so much about him than anyone else had in just a handful of days. He didn't have to pretend with her like with everyone else. 

"It isn't, Max. Leave the killing up to me." He quipped. 

Max hadn't expected to hear that and it visibly showed when her eyes bulged and her lips parted speechlessly. 

"Kidding," He added when the joke went over her head.

"Ohh . . I'll get it next time." She said with a rueful smile then reached into her bag to produce the photos she brought along with her. "You wanted a selfie, but I brought two. I hope you like at least one of them." 

Mark's eyes fell onto the polaroids hungrily as she placed them on the desk in front of them. He picked both of them up for inspection and instantly fell in love. She captured her own purity perfectly and she didn't even know it. 

"'Like' is a vast understatement," He murmured, his eyes traveling from one photo to the other. 

Her cheeks flushed scarlet at the compliment and it was too late to hide it. Over the edge of the photographs that he held to his eye level, their eyes locked onto each other for what felt like eternity when in reality, it was less than a second. He was the first to break away to drink in the rosy color of her cheeks against the cream of her natural complexion. 

Like before, his treacherous body responded in the most immoral way and he forced himself to sit down behind his desk so she wouldn't see how much her blush excited him. She needed to stay pure, even from him, no matter how difficult it'll prove to be in the near future.

Max noticed his body language and blushed even more, her cheeks burning from the blood increase being sent there due to embarrassment. She'd caught a glimpse of his erection back at his apartment and it'd only been a semi at the time. Against her better judgment, she wanted to see it - all of it - fully erect and hard just for her.

The clearing of his throat brought her back from her lustful thoughts. 

"I'd like to keep both of them, if that's alright with you?" He said in a polite, professional manner. 

The way he said it rubbed her the wrong way. All prim and polite. It was as if time rewound and they were back at the beginning of their unusual relationship. 

"Sure," She mimicked his tone in hopes of getting the same reaction she experienced and was sorely disappointed when she saw nothing drastically change in neither his facial expression or body language. 

Huffing, Max straightened her back and crossed her arms. It was time to change the subject.

"I have a question about Brandon. You know, the guy who thew a library book at me?" 

With his erection now gone, Mark stood back up as he tucked the photographs within the inside pocket of his blazer. 

"What about him?" He asked nonchalantly. 

"Did you have anything to do with him being expelled?"

He shrugged one shoulder carelessly. 

"I may have played a hand." He admitted, keeping his answer vague. She needn't know all the details. All it took was a watchful eye and a handful of illegal drugs. 

She grinned, flattered that he'd go out of his way to do such a thing for her. Brandon physically harmed her and Mark made him pay for doing so. It was satisfying. She only wished she'd been there to see it. 

"Thank you," She said accompanied by a soft gracious smile. 

Impulsively, she closed the distance between them, placed her palm against his firm chest and lifted herself higher on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his bearded cheek. It scuffed against her lips, tickling them as she moved away. Or as she attempted to, anyway. His hand seized the one she left on his chest and she looked up into his intense eyes that has seen so much, too much. 

"I will hurt anyone who harms you, Maxine, physical or otherwise. You understand that now, don't you?" 

The kiss to his cheek brought on an array of confusing emotions, emotions he refused to acknowledge. He said what needed to be said since the subject of Brandon had been brought up. Anyone intending to ruin her innocence by bullying or other means were not going to get away with it.

Max's jaw loosened as she succumbed to the tormented look in his suffocating gaze and the promise she knew he meant.  
   
"I understand that, Mark." She whispered. "What I don't understand is _why._ "

Her mouth dropped open further in awe as he brought her hand up and gently turned it over to press his warm lips against the underside of her wrist where her blue veins stuck out beautifully against her pale skin. She exhaled shakily, eyes falling to the cream of her healing flesh where Mark's full lips caressed. At one point in time, he'd taped those wrists together; now he was kissing one, returning her affections as he normally does. 

"Neither do I." He confessed.

His eyes fell as he released her hand and gave her an easy assignment to do until first period started. Max was quick on her feet, not saying a word about what just transpired between them. 

────────────────────────

During his classes, Mark gave his students free rein to work on their photos for the contest that was due next Wednesday. Max was ecstatic for the opportunity as she propped her instant camera up on the desk and brought out the notes she jotted down in the library earlier that week when life was much simpler, but also incredibly boring. 

"Anyone seen Stella today?" Mark asked the class as he checked for student attendance on his laptop. 

Alyssa, who was closest to him, stood up from her seat and said something to him that Max couldn't possibly hear from across the room. She saw Mark nod his head and gesture towards the door. Alyssa walked out with him following after, leaving behind a curious Max wondering what the issue was with Stella. Warren asked about her this morning and now she wasn't here in class. What could've happened to her?

Her curiosity left as quickly as it came. She ended up shrugging it off and focusing on her work. There was a specific image she wanted to take, one she was afraid may not be allowed. Creative freedom was a thing here at Blackwell, wasn't it? And she didn't see any limitations listed on the flyers she posted up nor did Mark mention any in class. 

Looking up from a set of black and white photos she searched up on her phone for inspiration, she noticed him making his rounds around the room. Evidently, his super short discussion with Alyssa was apparently over and he now decided to partake in assisting his students in the only way he can - by answering their questions. 

Max wanted to wait patiently for her turn, but knowing Victoria, she'd hog him all to herself until the bell rang.  
She remained at her seat for a little while longer to steel herself, idly fiddling with her camera or biting the end of the eraser on her pencil in feigned concentration to show off the illusion of being busy. Several minutes and two mini pep talks later, Max made her way to Victoria's desk, a small smile fixated in place. 

"Excuse me, Mr. Jefferson? I need to ask you a few questions about my photo." 

If life were a cartoon, steam would've been billowing out from Victoria's ears in fury. She glared icily in Max's direction by the interruption and her theivery of stealing Mark's attention away from her. 

"Yes, excuse you." She spat at Max angrily.

"No, Victoria. Excuse us." He shot back at the blonde, throwing her a discontented stare before leading Max back to her desk. 

"Ignore her," He whispered to her under his breath as she lowered herself back down to her seat. 

"I always do," She responded then looked up to where he hovered beside her, closely but not close enough to feel any of his body heat.

"So I have an idea of a photograph that I'd like to take, but I'm afraid it may be a bit . . controversial." 

Mark's eyebrows knitted together as he leaned against her desk with his arms and ankles crossed. 

"In what way would it be controversial?"

She paused, biting the inside of her cheek as she thought of the appropriate words to describe her vision.

"In a dark, sexual type of way?" 

His eyes immediately darkened at the word ' sexual ' and she back peddled a bit to explain. 

"It _could_ be perceived as that. It could also be viewed as, I dunno, domestic violence. It's up to the onlooker, right?" 

Looking away from her, he stroked his beard in deep thought, wondering what could be seen as both erotic and violent at the same time. 

"I could think of something else," She offered when the silence stretched on for too long.

"No," He said as he turned his head to look at her. "Don't change your vision for anything or anyone. If this is the type of image you want to capture, then capture it. Nothing is off limits in this contest. Let your imagination and creativity run wild. As I've said before, you have a gift." 

Max couldn't have asked for a better answer. She beamed up at him, feeling much more confident in going forward with her entry.

"Thank you, Mr. Jefferson. I will." 

Smiling warmly at her, he pushed himself off the desk and turned to lean against it with his hands. 

"Anytime, Miss Caulfield. Do you have any other questions?" 

_Well, since he asked . . ._

"I do, actually. What do you mean when you say I have a gift?" 

He chuckled then said, "I thought that'd be obvious. You have the fever to take images, to frame the world the way _you_ envision it. All you need now is the courage to share your gift with others." 

"Inspiring," Max mused. 

Mark simply shrugged his shoulders and flashed that award winning smile of his. 

"Well, that's what separates the artist from the amateur." 

She smothered down a smirk. 

"I kind of am an amateur, but luckily, I have a very good professor to help teach me." She spoke with a slight sultry undertone added to her soft voice.

Mark's avid gaze hardened as his fingers gripped the edge of the desk tightly. 

The mindless chatter surrounding them faded into background noise as he leaned a tiny bit closer to her and Max followed his movements, inching herself as close as she could in her sitting position.

"I can teach you _so_ much, Max." He revealed to her gruffly.

A pang of unexplainable pleasure shot through her lower abdominal area and she gasped, her body jerking from the unfamiliar sensation. Mark appeared to know exactly what was happening to her and licked his lips, a faint smirk following after. There were too many implications behind those words and it left Max feeling hot and slightly wanton. 

"Mr. Jefferson?" 

Taylor's voice bled its way through their little bubble of enthrallment as she stood a little ways behind him. Exhaling a subdued sigh of annoyance, he turned to face the dirty blonde. 

"Yes, Taylor?" 

"I have a few questions about my photo too." She said as Victoria looked on towards them, a snide smile imprinted on her face. 

Without responding to her, he swiveled back to Max. 

"You alright here, Max?" 

"Yes, thank you." She replied, willingly letting him go since she had no other choice. 

With a small smile, he left her side to rejoin Taylor at the desk she shared with Victoria. It was obvious that she had her faithful minion steal Mark away from Max with that triumphantly smug grin Victoria threw in her direction. Max was unaffected by it as she looked on towards Hayden who was tinkering away at his camera. She needed models for her photo and Hayden stood out to her than most within the class. Both for his tall stature and overall laziness when it comes to this particular class. 

Mustering up the courage and burying away her timidness, she rose out of her seat to approach the male. 

"Hey, Hayden." She greeted him, trying to sound casual. 

He averted his gaze from his camera and smiled crookedly up at the shy girl standing awkwardly in front of him. 

"'Sup, Max?"

"Nothing really, just working on my photo for the contest. Speaking of, I was wondering if you could model in mine? You're exactly what I'm envisioning inside my head. Particularly your hands." 

A confused expression flickered across his face as he looked down to his beefy paws. He didn't see anything special about them. 

"You'll see what I mean if you agree." Max added, purposely trying to entice him by being vague.

He chuckled and shook his head lazily. 

"Me, modeling? That'd be a first." He mused.

As Hayden contemplated, Mark kept a careful eye on their whole interaction. He couldn't hear what was being exchanged between the two from his position at Victoria's desk and couldn't begin to guess either. 

He saw Hayden nod his head at her after a moments silence and Max smile brightly right after. The sight was beautiful and he couldn't keep himself from gawking as she pulled her phone out to add Hayden's number to her contacts list. 

"Thanks again. I'll text you whenever I find another model and am ready to take the shot." 

"Dana would make a badass model. I'm sure my hands and her body practically melt into each other." He suggested rather fondly.

That wasn't quite the effect she wanted. She was looking for more of a contrast so any light skinned female will do. Dana did have soft facial features, unblemished and light with full lips to boot; that could work. Plus the way she dresses with her low-cut shirts and tight torn jeans. She isn't afraid to amp up her female sexuality and that could work in Max's favor if it translated well to her photo.

"Okay, I'll talk to her after school and see how she feels about it. See you later."

No longer distracted by her conversation with Hayden, Max felt eyes bore into her as she walked back to her desk. She didn't look to see who it was. It couldn't be Victoria since she was so wrapped up with Mr. Jefferson. Possibly Taylor, keeping a look out in case she tried to steal Mark away again. 

With her sitting comfortably back at her chair, the indescribable weight she felt lifted off of her, allowing her to breathe a little easier. After more thought, she came to the conclusion that it could've been Mark himself staring at her, monitoring her every move. She couldn't blame him. Knowing the incidents involving Cody and Brandon, she had a bad track record with boys her age even though Hayden was completely different from those other two. All he seemed to care about was parties and weed.

Max scanned the area of the room after a time. It was weird being in class like everything was normal. She was drugged and kidnapped, learned of Mark's strange obsession, killed another human being, buried said human being alongside her professor and held him to her like he was her lover in a closet on campus. Moving back to Arcadia Bay has been nothing short of exhilarating. 

For the remainder of class, Max created an outline of what she wanted to visually represent for her picture. There was only so much she could do with her little instant camera, there weren't many settings or different lenses she could use to change how it came out, only filters. Regardless, she wouldn't be discouraged. Polaroids were her style and she wasn't about to change that.

She wasn't expecting Mark to hold her back after the bell rang so when he did, she was genuinely surprised. As she drew closer to him, he bent to pick up the suitcase from beside his desk and placed it down on the flat surface before popping it open. He retrieved a cheap-looking phone from the case and turned it over in his hand to give her curious eyes a good look. 

"It's unwise to be careless in this sort of business. You must think of every scenario that could be used against you and nullify it by using other means. Phone calls and texts, for example. They can be traced with any phone, except these. Understand?" 

Max nodded silently and held her palms out for the disposable phone. This inexpensive device was their link to one another and she felt giddy inside for finally having _something_ that bridged them together even when they are far apart. Mark saw how her face lit up in glee and immediately sought to extinguish it.

"I know what you're thinking and this is for business only. I already installed my numbers in the contact lists of all the phones I got for you here." He said as he withdrew two more cellular devices, all of the same model. "These things are untraceable and encrypted. Take care of them."

She didn't ask how he came to possess encrypted phones, only opened her bag to place all of them and its charger inside. Despite his words on this being strictly business, she was still happy and warm inside. That is, until she looked him in the eye. He was looking expectantly at her as if waiting for an explanation for something.

"Er - thank you?" She mumbled uncertainly.

Silence stretched on before them like an endless river. A variety of emotions he tried hard to conceal flickered across his face. Anger, sadness, curiosity, pain.

"You're aware of the party going on tomorrow, yeah?" He asked out of the blue, deterring the conversation to a whole other topic. 

"Yes, what about it?" 

"You're going to it." 

Max blinked a couple of times in rapid succession. _What?_

"You heard me, Max. You're going to that party to assist Nathan in capturing my next model." He stated indifferently. 

"Don't you think it's a little too soon? I mean, so soon after _my_ session?" 

His head tilted at her question as though not comprehending what she was saying and a part of him didn't. It was never too soon to exploit the kiddies of Blackwell Academy for his own dark needs. 

"No." Was his crisp response. 

Exactly how many times he's done this was the first thought that went through her head as she stared up at him. The warmth in his brown eyes were gone and in its place was a vacancy that chilled her to the bone. His mind was in a dark place, she reasoned - in the dark room. Therefore, he was insensitive. It was the only explanation she could think of for his off-putting attitude. 

However many times he's gone through these motions, Max knew it had to be a high number if he was being this blasé about it. His sudden coldness isn't what perturbed her though nor was it the fact that she'd be the kidnapee this time around. What bugged her most was having to spend her evening with Nathan, of all people, and at some dumb party no less. 

When she said nothing, his heart plummeted in disappointment. It was a shame since she'd have been an exceptional protégé. As he stared at her, he was formulating the quickest ways to kill her off and dispose of her body regardless of how much it perturbed him to even think of it. A bond had been formed between them, one he didn't know they had until now since the thought of killing her bothered him more than it should.

"Nathan and I don't exactly get along." She explained after a while, effectively tossing his murderous thoughts out the window.  

"I know, but for tomorrow night, I want you to push your differences aside, alright? I'll discuss this with him as well." 

Max scoffed. 

"You think he'll listen?" 

"He will _always_ listen to me." 

Like with her, Mark held power over Nathan as well, so she didn't question him on why that was when she already knew.

"I'll keep in touch." He said as he closed the briefcase. 

That was his dismissal of her, it seemed. Frowning, she turned on her heel to walk off only to feel his large hand encircle the small width of her upper arm and tug her back to him. A pleasurable thrill shot up and down her spine at how firm he held her accompanied by his hot breath cascading down the shell of her ear and neck. 

"Don't have _too_ much fun tomorrow, Max. I'm . . . trusting you to do this task for me. Remember that photo I took of you in that mucky grave, try to fuck me over and that photo is going straight to the authorities." 

Max audibly growled at the mention of that and attempted to wrench herself free to face him. He didn't let up, only tightened his grip. 

"I don't care about that fucking photo, Mark. I would _never_ do that to you, but if using blackmail makes you feel safer, then so be it." 

Mark said nothing as he finally released her. With her vulgar profanity, she stole away any retort he could use against her and watched as she stormed out of the room. Evidently, she didn't take lightly to the threat. Or she was insulted that he believed she'd turn on him. Either way, she was upset and he couldn't do anything to console her. 

No matter. With the arrival of the weekend, he can finally focus on what truly matters to him - his art.


	16. Linked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration for the release date of the long awaited Kingdom Hearts III, a new chapter for all you beautiful people! Because of this, I made quick work of revising and editing this rather short chapter since I knew I wouldn't have had the time of day to do so after this game's release and I don't want to keep you all waiting too long for an update.  
> I know some of you guys are restless and thinking 'could this chick PLEASE get on with the freaky bits already?' and to that I say - patience. I really want to build up to that point without it feeling rushed. Stick with me and I promise you'll receive the steamy smut I know some of you crave. 
> 
> With all that said, I sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter. 😊

School was let out early specifically for the Vortex Club party, granting students more time to prepare and invite their friends from neighboring counties and schools. Max didn't realize how big of a crowd it reeled in as this would be the first party she'll be going to. She felt apprehensive about it, as any teenager would, but for completely different reasons. While other girls fretted over what outfit they were going to wear, Max was worrying her lip for the poor girl that she was going to help drug tonight.

As she walked across the grassy front lawn of Blackwell, it occurred to her that Mark never told her who their target was. What innocent girl would go to a boisterous party?

Looking up, she saw a distraught Warren wandering up and down the paved walkway near the outdoor picnic tables, stopping anyone who passed him by. The exchange never lasted long and Max grew curious on what had him acting so irritable. 

"What's up, Warren?" She inquired when she was close enough to him. 

He glanced at her as his hand combed through his hair in frustration. 

"Just asking around about Stella. I've contacted her parents and they haven't heard from her either, but they won't file a missing persons report since she's ran away from them in the past." He replied solemnly.

This was serious. Max thought for sure she'd pop up at some point today. If not with her parents or at Blackwell, where? She wasn't _that_ concerned as that lied elsewhere, but it did leave her wondering. 

"I know Brandon is suspended, but you should really consider checking in with him like I suggested this morning. If anyone knows her whereabouts, it's him." 

Warren agreed with a rapid nod of his head. If only Stella could see how anxious he was for her and how desperate.

"You're right. I'll give him a call now. Thanks Max." 

He gave her a wave of farewell as he turned away and walked off towards the parking lot, phone in hand. Stella and Max weren't exactly close, especially after their little spat in class, but if that was anything to go by, Brandon somehow had to be involved with her disappearance. Since their first encounter, he gave off weird vibes that Stella somehow didn't sense, or chose to ignore altogether. 

It was good, Max thought as she continued on her way towards the dorms. Now Warren will be too distracted with Stella to bother with her anymore. At least, until she was found . . _if_ she was found. Girls vanishing was becoming the norm around here. First Rachel and now Stella. Who was next? Hell, Max herself could've been one of those missing girls if Mark had chosen to kill her. 

That night in the dark room seemed so long ago now. Her memories of it were patchy. What she did manage to retain were the events that occurred the very next day. Him placing enough trust into her by showing her his unusual obsession, his thoughtfulness in bringing her breakfast, and the mystery on why he did what he did to teenage girls to begin with. She recalled asking him about it after he showed her the photos he took and his answer was a threat to tape her mouth shut, so that question wasn't going to be answered anytime soon. 

Max reached the girl's dormitories as she continued to ponder about her life here and the choices she's made in it thus far. Anyone in their right mind would have fought against their kidnapper, not blindly thrust their trust in them. They would've fought to get away and contact the proper authorities for all the crimes she's witnessed him commit and attend therapy to help cope with all the trauma. 

But Max wasn't in that mindset. Not entirely. Instead of wanting to get as far away from him as possible, she wanted to know how he thinks, what drives him to do the things he does; she wanted to learn. She's always had a fixation on the dark and mysterious so it was only natural that she'd grow to idolize him more than what was considered healthy. 

Amidst her wild thoughts, a soft voice from behind caught Max's attention when she'd reached her dorm room. Turning to face the sound, she saw Kate standing not far behind with her hands clasped in front of her. 

"Max, I'd . ." She paused to take a small step forward towards the other teenaged girl who has become much more dangerous in the span of only two days. "I'd like to apologize for my behavior that night in the showers. I was snippy with you and you didn't deserve that. I'm truly sorry." 

With all the excitement currently going on in her life recently, Max completely forgot about her mini quarrel with Kate. She didn't even know what she had for breakfast yesterday morning, if anything; her brain didn't preserve insignificant memories such as that.

"It's okay, Kate, I understand." Max replied absently. 

A bright smile stretched across the devout Christian's face, pleased at being forgiven so easily.

"Thank you. Uhm . . I was wondering if you'd come by my dorm sometime today? Whenever you're available, of course. I want to talk to you about something." 

Max's brows furrowed, surprised by the request and greatly curious about what she wanted to discuss. 

So much so that she didn't even think when she blurted, "I'm free right now." 

Kate blinked momentarily then smiled small. 

"Oh, okay then. Er- let me make sure my room looks presentable first then I'll text you when I'm done. Okay?" 

"Sure, that's fine." 

With one final smile, she went on her way and Max did the same. She dropped her bag down onto the bed and reached inside for one of the burner phones. Biting the inside of her lip, she decisively chose to power it on with the intent of messaging Mark. Yes, she was still upset with him and yes, she remembered what he said about the use of the phone, how it was for business only, but she didn't care in that moment nor did she consider the consequences or repercussions; she just wanted to talk to him.

Her face lit up when she came across the single number on the list. It was named 'M' for what she assumed stood for his initial and her palms became slick with sweat as she unthinkingly shot him a text. It was a harmless greeting, nothing for him to get upset about, right? Wrong. A message from him came a few minutes later that read:

'Business only. I told you this, M. You're already failing me.' 

She scowled at the screen, but didn't let his words affect her. She pressed on by being 'professional' and indirectly asked who their target was, just to be on the safe side. 

'I was just gonna ask who we're inviting to the party tonight.' 

'Inviting' meaning 'kidnapping' and 'party' meaning 'dark room'. Surely he'd be able to figure that out.

She received a text from Kate on her actual phone whilst she waited for Mark's reply on the other. Tucking both devices in the back pockets of her jeans, she left her dorm and crossed the hall to join Kate in hers. The room was immaculate and Max expected nothing less. Cleanliness is next to godliness, or so the saying goes.

She sat down on the couch when prompted by Kate and took in her surroundings further. It was a typical teenager's bedroom, nothing remotely interesting about it. The only things that made it stand out were the insufferable amount of Christian symbols and the rabbit nearby that was nibbling on a half eaten carrot. 

"Would you like some tea?" She politely asked as she went to her mini fridge. 

"Sure, that sounds nice." Max answered, pleased with the hospitality, but mostly curious on what this was about. 

While Kate busied herself with fetching a couple of small glasses from her station for the tea, Max brought out the disposable phone just as it vibrated, signaling a message had been received. Eagerly, she opened the text up and became confused at what it said. 

'Kit Marshall. See you at the party.' 

Well, he defintely understood where Max was coming from, but she couldn't dissect the hidden message behind the false name he provided as Kate held a cup of tea out towards her, distracting her. 

"Here you go."

Max placed the phone aside and took the glass from her grasp, shooting Kate a grateful smile. 

"Thank you," She said before taking a sip of the chilled brew. It was rather bland, but the cold made up for it. 

Kate sat across from her on the bed, holding her cup of tea loosely in front of her. She looked contemplative as she stared blankly down at the floor, her fingers tapping idly against the porcelain glass. 

"Are you religious, Max?" She questioned. 

' _Please don't let this discussion become a preaching session_ ' Max internally pleaded to whatever benevolent being existed and was listening. 

"Not really, no. My parents never really forced that onto me." 

She tilted her head at Max's choice of words. 'Forced' was a strong one. 

"Well, as you probably know, I am. I love everything about my religion - attending church, praying, confessing my sins, partaking in the Eucharist,  
bible study - but sometimes I want to experience things as a, I don't know, I guess . . as a normal teenager? Like trying drugs for the first time or going to a party."

Max almost spat out her tea at the disturbing mental image of Kate doing drugs in any capacity. She was too pure and -- the cup Max held nearly fell out of her hold as realization kicked in full throttle. Kit Marshall. _Kate Marsh_. 

Mark had his eyes set on one of the purest students Blackwell had to offer. And yet here she was talking about drugs and parties. It all seemed too coincidental to the point where it was borderline creepy. 

"Okay, definitely not drugs. I was just saying that as an example." Kate explained after taking in Max's reaction. "What do you think? Am I being silly about all this? Is it just a phase?" 

Placing her half-empty cup of tea to the side, Max shook her head in answer. 

"You're not being silly at all. It's only natural for you to want to live a little, we all do. There's a Vortex party being held in the school's gymnasium, you know. We could go together, if you want." Max went on to say then added as to convince her further, "We don't even have to be there for that long, just long enough for you to wind down and say that you did something fun in your youth that didn't consist of holy water and bibles." 

Kate thought for a moment, considering her words and reflecting on the possible consequences. Her desire to experience something different from her norm outweighed anything in that moment. It was quickly decided.

"Both you and Mr. Jefferson really know how to sell it." She finally said after a long while. "I'll go with you. We can look out for one another." 

Max scooted forward on the couch, taking the phone with her and placing it back in her pocket. 

"Mr. Jefferson suggested you go to the party?" She asked, completely disregarding the 'look after each other' bit. Of course she'll look after her, Mark wanted her beneath his lens and Max didn't want to displease him by failing to bring her to him. 

"Not really. Actually, he said the complete opposite of what you did, telling me to focus more on my school work which only made me want to go to this party even more. He pulled me back after class on Thursday to question me on why I was looking so blue and it took off from there. He's a teacher though so of course he'd say something like that." 

Thursday. Max missed class that day, having slept through most of it. That night, however, was the most eventful and frightening one she's had since arriving here. Mark knew exactly how Kate was feeling and played on that feeling by using reverse psychology on her. By saying what she didn't want to hear, he successfully managed to have her want to do the opposite, to rebel. She just needed a little bit more reassurance from a fellow peer and Max was all too willing to give it. 

"Oh, of course." Max agreed with a dismissive hand wave as she stood. "I'm glad we'll be going to the party together, Kate. I'm gonna head back to my dorm to knock out some of my homework before then." 

Kate nodded in agreement and she mimicked her by standing to lead her through the door. 

"Thanks for the tea." Max said as she walked out into the hall.

"And thank _you_ for the guidance I sorely needed. I may come to regret it later, but as of right now, I just want to break routine. You ever feel that way?" 

Despite Max's ulterior motives, she didn't want Kate to regret a thing. If given the proper dosage, she won't remember anything that will soon happen to her in the dark room. Nathan couldn't be relied on in that task since he failed to dose _her_ properly when her time came. She could still remember being taken from her bed and the long drive out to the barn. Surely that isn't something favorable. Now that she thought about it, he could've done that on purpose. But for what reason? 

"All the time." Max affirmed, pushing her growing thoughts to the side. "I'll see ya' later, Kate. Text me whenever." 

Kate smiled warmly and raised a hand to wave goodbye at Max's retreating back, blissfully unaware of what lay in store for her. 

────────────────────────

Alone in her room, Max paced, digging her hands into her short brown hair. ' _I'm really going to do this, aren't I?_ ' She silently asked herself as she kicked off her shoes and continued to pace. ' _Am I as twisted as him if I'm willing to **kidnap** another student? And for the sake of . . what? His approval?_ '

No. Deep down in her blackening heart, she knew it was more than that, although pleasing him had quickly become a main priority for her.   
There was something admirable about his lust for perfect innocence that he'd be willing to commit unspeakable crimes for just a taste and she wanted to be a part of that. 

Parking herself at her desk in the corner, she realized that she didn't know much of anything. How this all worked, the location of the barn, why Mark insisted she help him with all this to begin with. Suppose if she partook in the crime, she'd be just as guilty as him thus making her unable to report anything to the police without going to jail herself - not that she would. But she understood that he may be doing this for security reasons. Besides that, the only information she'd been made aware of was the fact that what he did was some sort of business. She couldn't imagine a business of any kind that pertained to drugs, kidnap, and photographing unconscious girls. Not on the surface of society, anyway. It possibly correlated with the criminal underworld, to an extent, like human trafficking. Max shuddered at that thought and refused to think of it further.

' _All in good time_ ' she'd said in the dark room when Mark expressed his confusion on why she wasn't asking him anything in regards to his unorthodox hobby. She was beginning to regret saying that now as she fiddled incessantly with the edge one of her many photo albums that rested on the smooth surface of the desk. 

Later that evening when the sun had already gone down over the horizon, Max finally tore herself from her desk to do the buttload homework she said she'd work on earlier. She'd been spaced out for hours, her thoughts darting from the wickedly obscene to the mind-numbingly decent. It was a trance she couldn't pull herself out from until the shadows seeped through her window, awakening her, so to speak. 

She knew Mark would want her to get her rest, but he wasn't here to tell her so and it was the _weekend_. Staying up late on a Friday night was unavoidable and homework didn't appeal to her much anymore. She was half tempted to sneak out like before, but remembered vividly how that played out for her the last time she did. That alone kept her from putting her shoes on and dashing out of there as fast as she could. 

Sighing heavily, Max stripped down to only her panties, discarding her dirty clothes in a nearby hamper beside her dying plant Lisa. Her mom gave that to her as a goodbye gift and she's done a good job of killing it slowly by not giving it the proper nutrients it desperately needed. She mumbled a quiet apology to the withering foliage and shot her mother a text to inform her of the loss. It being as late as it was, she was most likely asleep so Max wasn't expecting a response until early tomorrow morning. Thereafter, she hopped on her laptop to remove herself from the chatroom, but not without peeping in to see what the conversation has been about since she was last online. 

Mentions of Cody's absence were near nonexistent. It was the same with her, no one really brought their names into any of their discussions. Slightly relieved, she deleted her account as a whole, no longer in need of it since she now partook in the dark realities she so often talked about in the chat. It was scary, exciting, and _dangerous_ and that danger made her feel more alive than anything in the world. She didn't know where this depraved side of her derived from, no idea how or why it was quickly becoming a part of her personality. Maybe it had always dwelled deep within her, biding its time and developing itself into something that couldn't be contained. What she's seen and experienced gave it form and now it threatened to unleash itself on some poor soul without an inkling of the wickedness Max kept hidden beneath a friendly smile and soft-spoken voice. She knew she needed to conceal that part of her, but it was becoming difficult.

Turning her pensive gaze from the computer screen, her eyes rested on the men's clothes hidden in her closet. Mark could help her, right? The urge to text him and ask was unbearable as she went to her closet for the white button up. It was soft to the touch and smelled faintly of him as she slipped the overly large shirt over her arms and bare shoulders. Merely having a part of him on her gave her a sense of serenity and she could feel her muscles relax beneath the velvety cotton. 

He saw her as pure and innocent. Revealing any of this to him would tarnish that and he would no longer see any value in her. Or so she feared. She didn't know what went on in that beautiful head of his. He could turn out to love it for all she knew. However, she was unwilling to test that theory out as she dragged herself back to her bed. 

Overthinking always served as a nighttime sleep aid to her somehow. Her eyes drooped closed with her arms wrapped loosely around herself, subconsciously imagining they were Mark's arms instead. 

────────────────────────

Max slept well into the afternoon while most of her peers were already awake, either staying in to catch up on school work or out in Arcadia Bay living and having fun as most teenagers do. A series of consecutive vibrations of her phone nestled uncomfortably underneath her body yanked her into wakefulness. With a yawn, she flipped over on her stomach whilst tugging her phone free from under her to check the text messages she's received since this morning. One from her mom expressing her condolences over Lisa and love for her only daughter, one apology from Chloe, two updates from Warren regarding Stella, and finally, one from Dana asking when she'd like to take the photo and where. Besides all that, there was a missed call from an unknown number. Same area code, so whoever it was lived within the area. 

It must've been a wrong number so she didn't reflect on it for another second as she replied back to all who texted her. She forgave Chloe, advised Warren and set a date up with Dana and told her to pass it on to Hayden so he'd know. He apparently beat Max in asking Dana if she'd like to model for the photo. It was good since Max already had too many tasks on her plate to perform that were far more important. 

As she pulled herself upright in bed, she smiled softly when she looked down to see Mark's shirt wrapped loosely around her small frame. Wanting to capture this moment, she reached down for her camera that was inside her bag and turned it on as she righted herself. She adjusted the flaps to keep some of her modesty before posing and snapping the photo. It printed out instantly and she turned to pin it up to the wall beside her. 

Then a knock to her door sounded, startling her. 

"Hold on!" She yelled loud enough for whoever was on the other side to hear before stumbling out of bed. She hastily pulled Mark's shirt off, shoved it in the closet and, in exchange, grabbed an overly large t-shirt that once belonged to her dad. She used it as a nightgown due to how huge it looked on her; the seam went well past her knees, making it look like a dress, of sorts. After pulling it over her head, she opened the door to see a sullen Kate standing in the frame of it. She jumped in surprise when the door in front of her suddenly jerked open and she smiled apologetically at Max who stared at her in mild bewilderment. 

"Hey, Kate. What's up?" Max asked as she smoothed her hair down in an attempt to make it look somewhat presentable. 

"Have you . . heard from Stella by any chance?" Came her small voice in question. 

Max tried hard to suppress an eye roll and was successful by shaking her head 'no'. She's about had it with these questions about Stella. 

"We weren't exactly friends." She said,  scratching the back of her head absently. 

Kate's hazel eyes trailed down to the floor by Max's bare feet on the 'keep calm and carry on' carpet. Some advice. 

"It's not me who is tremendously worried, it's Warren, and he asked me if I could ask around the girl's dorms to see if anyone knows of her whereabouts. Which, if you know what I do, is fruitless. I'd tell him that, but she made me promise not to tell another soul." 

Max tilted her head, a faint smirk curved along her lips. "What if I don't have a soul? Would you tell me then?" 

Kate's mouth dropped open, appalled at what she was hearing. 

"Max Caulfield, of course you have a soul! We all do." She retorted. 

Her intentions weren't to argue about whether she had a soul or not, so she decidedly changed tactics to get Kate talking.

"Why would Stella tell you this secret but not anyone else?" 

Kate shrugged. "I don't know. I guess because we're close friends?" 

"In that case, wouldn't you feel bad for not telling someone where she is if something bad were to happen to her?"

Max saw her expressions fluidly change on her face, altering from concern to fear. 

"You don't think - ?" 

"Has she kept in contact with you?" Max interrupted. 

"No . . ."

"So you haven't heard from her since she's left to only you know where?" 

Frustration marred Kate's lips into a tight-lipped frown, her forehead crinkling.

"No, I haven't! She told me she was going with extended family members on a vacation and I'm just thinking she's been having too much fun with them to keep in touch." 

_Bingo_. Thinking so positively over a dear friend was better than the alternative. Max being Max, she considered that alternative and, as always, it was grim and unpleasant. 

Not wanting to worry her too much since the party was tonight and she didn't want to accidentally talk her out of going to it, Max placed a reassuring hand on Kate's shoulder, prompting the naive teen to look up at her. 

"As I've told Warren, I'm sure she's fine. She probably _is_ having too much fun to shoot you a text. Don't worry about it, okay?" 

"But . . wait. If she were truly with family, then wouldn't the school have been notified about it? Mr. Jefferson has been marking her absent the past few days." 

What to say to that? Max couldn't think of a single argument to bring up and the pause was long enough to make Kate worry. 

"Oh Max! We have to look for her and report her missing! She . . - she could be anywhere."

"Calm down. She could turn up at the party tonight." 

Kate pushed her bangs out from her eyes as a heavy exhale blew out from her slightly parted mouth. 

"She isn't one to party but then again, neither am I yet I'm going to one. Or, I was. I'm not sure anymore." She mumbled as she shimmied her shoulders a bit awkwardly.

Max's hand fell back down to her side, wracking her brain for an appropriate response. She didn't want to sound overbearing in bringing the Vortex party up again or too conspicuous, so she decided to drop it altogether. 

"But you're right," Kate added before Max could say anything. "She could show up there." 

"Does that mean . . ?" Max trailed off, sounding a little too hopeful. 

"We're still on for tonight!" She exclaimed with a bright, beaming smile. "I'll let Warren know about Stella. See you later on." 

With Kate disappearing down the corridor, Max closed her bedroom door and leaned against it as she attempted to allow herself to unwind from their conversation that could've gone a multitude of ways. She was afraid of saying the wrong thing, but was happy that the it ended on a positive note with Kate still on board in attending the party. 

The constant vibration of her phone pulled her away from the door and onto her bed where she perused through her messages to see who was bothering her now. Her face twisted in confusion as she checked her phone log when she didn't come across any new messages. No texts or missed calls. Then how-

Another collection of vibrations sounded throughout the room only this time it came from _below_ her and she tossed her phone aside before moving to dangle herself half off the bed to reach its origin. The burner phone somehow lay partially beneath her bed and she couldn't recall how it ended up there. She snatched it up and answered the call without so much as a glance at the caller ID. It didn't occur to her that the phone was untraceable. Therefore, no telemarketers could possibly gain access to it, whom she thought the caller was. 

"Max's Mortuary, you stab 'em, we slab 'em. How may I help you this afternoon?" 

She was nearly in hysterics by the time she'd finished speaking and would've laughed into the receiver if _his_ angry voice hadn't spoken up on the other end of the line. 

"Do you think this sort of thing is humorous, Maxine?" Mark seethed venomously into the phone.

Gooseflesh sprung across the length of her arms, her mouth growing as dry as a desert. He was the last person she was expecting a call from. Her tongue refused to work so she just sat there, unmoving as she clutched the cell to her ear. Regardless of the fury in his voice, it was still always a pleasure to listen to. 

"Nothing to say now, huh? No more jokes to tell?" He taunted her and she could _hear_ the frown in his voice. 

She found hers after hearing an exasperated sigh on his end and held the phone more tightly to her ear as if that'd bring him closer to her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think-" 

"I don't want to hear it right now." He mumbled, annoyance lacing every vowel. 

Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she curled up into herself, bringing her legs to her chest and hugging them with a single arm. She didn't say anything after that. He needed to cool off and she needed to keep quiet to prevent him from getting any more upset. It was a harmless joke, she didn't understand why he was getting so angry about it. 

Only she was wrong. It wasn't the joke that set him off, but the irrefutable fact that she didn't answer his call the first time. He tried to reason with himself that maybe she'd been busy, but that only sent his mind into an endless spiral of thoughts of her and who she was being busy with, if anyone. If she was remaining _pure_.

He said none of this, of course. Her normal, functioning life was her own and he had no place within it to demand who she's recently spoken to and what they did. As long as she obeyed the rules he set for her in the woods, everything between them should be smooth sailing.  
He couldn't be more wrong.

"I called to ask if you knew anything about Kate's stance on the party tonight." He finally spoke, less angry and annoyed after burying some of his pettiness.

Max scowled even though he couldn't see it. He called her to talk about Kate, not to ask how she slept, what she's been up to since yesterday . . it would've helped her feel less mad at him after what he said to her in class. If he cared even a little, he'd have asked, right? Sign number one to seal her heart up now to keep it from getting hurt, but she was a fool and came up with a bullshit excuse for him that even she couldn't believe. 

"She's going. Nothing to worry about." She responded flatly, about ready to hang up since he got what he wanted. Naturally, she didn't. A stupid part of her wanted to hear more from him and that stupid part got her wish. 

"Are you still upset over the whole blackmail situation?" He asked after detecting the tone of her voice. 

"Yes." 

She heard him exhale heavily on the other end and smiled secretly to herself for having him be so reactive over the phone.

"Would apologizing make it better?" He continued with no intention of actually following through with it.

She scoffed. "No because you wouldn't mean it." 

With a breathy exhale of her own, she languidly stretched herself back onto her bed, causing the huge shirt she wore to ride up her thighs.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Mark. By tonight, both of us will forget all about it." 

He couldn't argue with that. A sly, crooked grin curved along his lips at the intoxicating thought of photographing his next muse. Aside from Max, Kate was the purest of them all. 

"I just hope you don't forget about me and my role in all this." She added.

Mark laughed dryly as he turned to lean against the wall inside his condo, dressed only athletic shorts and under armor. He was preparing to take a quick jog out in the neighborhood or down the bay before calling Max up. He wasn't a complete workout junkie, but he did like to exercise every now and again to keep himself fit. 

"I could never forget you, Max. Kate may be my muse for now, but _you_ are my muse for life." He murmured seductively into the phone, meaning it.

Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession when hearing those delectable words; it made her practically melt into the comforter. 

"I'll see you tonight. Make sure to drop the attitude before you walk into the dark room, 'kay? I want my sweet, innocent Max in there with me." 

Before she could respond ( not that she could due to her loss of breath and equilibrium ) Mark ended the call and she was left laying there, repeating what he'd said over and over again in her head. 

_His_ Max? She liked the sound of that. If only he meant it literally.


	17. Vortex Drug Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A super small dose of controlling!Jefferson is featured in this one, folks.  
> Enjoy!

Darkness fell across Arcadia Bay with no illumination from the obscured moon that hung overhead like an ornament. Large foreboding clouds blanketed the night sky, cloaking the stars from view and giving way to an eerieness that most people would be afraid of or uncomfortable in. 

Max wasn't one of those people. Night and day were like photo filters to her, both beautiful and unique in their own way. But with nighttime comes a different kind of beauty, one that often goes unseen when humans tuck their heads in for bed. It was a shame, too, since the night carried a silence and calmness that a sunny clear sky could never imitate. 

A cold gust of wind swept through the air around the teenaged girls, seeping into the thin mesh sweater Max decided to wear that night, chilling her. Kate walked along beside her, choosing to dress up in her normal attire that consisted of a skirt, sweater, a crisp collared shirt and her gold plaited cross necklace. Max could practically feel the anxiety roll off of her in waves the closer they got to the school. One hand fiddled with the cross dangling from her neck as the other went around her torso for comfort and warmth. 

"I'm kind of nervous," Kate confided as they walked down the path leading to the fountain. "I've never been to one of these before." 

Max took a gander at several other students making their way to the front of the school, Nathan being one of them. He appeared to be excited, as anyone in his clique would, his hand clapping down on Logan's back before he muttered something into his ear. She watched as Logan nodded his head and made a gesture towards the lot. Both males took a detour in that direction, leaving Max wondering what shenanigans they could up to.

"Neither have I." She finally replied, turning to glance at Kate as they walked into the school. "We'll experience it together. Tonight, we officially lose our 'never been to a party' v-cards."  

Kate giggled softly, her troubled nerves finding some solace in the joke. 

"Right. And we'll look after one another." She added with a gentle smile. 

Max's smile dropped instantaneously and she had to look away. She couldn't bear to see that smile and think of it later when Mark took pictures of her in the dark room. Her mouth wouldn't even be able to move in that state. Pair it along with what she said and Max could feel a tinge of regret for what she intended to do later. Only a tinge. Her need to impress and satisfy Mark far surpassed that. 

Loud music boomed from afar, growing louder and louder with each step they took. Max, eager to get this over and done with, picked up the pace and Kate mimicked her so they'd stay side by side. The massive doors leading to the gym were wide open and inside was a plethora of rowdy teenagers. They danced and grinded onto each other to beat of the music, lounged at the many tables surrounding the dancefloor or stood idly by with red plastic cups in their hands. Flashing strobe lights of greens, reds and blues bathed the whole gym in vibrant color and Max found herself slightly mesmerized by it as she walked further in, careful to avoid a guy who almost stumbled into her in the hopes of cupping a feel. 

"Maaaxx!" A loud but lazy drawl called out from the side to her. 

Max vaguely heard the voice over the thunderous blare of the music, but she managed to catch a sliver of it and turned to see where it originated from. 

"Max!" 

She heard it call for her again only this time, the sound had a face to it and that face belonged to none other than Hayden who was surrounded by a bunch of girls. 

"I see Hayden wants your attention. I'll be sitting over there when you finish chatting him up. Don't forget about me." Kate said into Max's ear before shooting off in that direction as quickly as she could.

She watched her go to make sure she made it there without strife and only moved when Kate sat down at a lone table in a dusty corner of the gym. Satisfied, Max walked up to the stoned teen, arms crossed. He grinned lopsidedly up at her as he brought a blunt up to his lips to take a hit. 

"Care to live a little?" He offered her the joint as he exhaled smoke through parted lips. She declined with a digusted scrunch of her nose. The stench of weed was horrendous and she plugged her nose to keep from inhaling any more of the ghastly stuff. 

Hayden responded by laughing and shaking his head. 

"Buzzkill. You'll come around, Maxine. All you normies do eventually." He slurred.

She almost winced at his use of her birth name; it didn't sound nice on his tongue, not like it did on Mark's. 

"Least I got to witness you comin' to a Vortex party. And with _Kate Marsh_ , of all people? That's dope. By the way, are we still on for that photoshoot?" 

Short attention span, hopping from one subject to the next. Was that a side effect of being high? She didn't know. Dropping her hand down to her side, she took a sniff of the air to make sure she couldn't smell any remnants of the drug; there was a linger stench, but it was faint and hardly noticeable.

"Yes, we're still on. Just don't toke up beforehand, alright? I want you coherent." She told him sternly.

He smirked and lounged back into the couch. One girl snagged the opportunity to lay across his lap and vie for his attention. Max grimaced at the sight and made what she hoped came off as a 'goodbye' gesture to Hayden before stalking off. She heard him say something behind her, but his words were buried under the catchy melody of She Wants Revenge's 'Tear You Apart'.

She mouthed some of the lyrics as she waded through a dense crowd of teens, catching a small glimpse of Kate sitting at the table just ahead. Max had to physically force herself through the sweaty wall of students and she could've sworn she felt a hand or two touch her ass as she squeezed by. The crowd had clearly thickened and the gym wasn't big enough to accommodate the sheer magnitude of Blackwell's party animals. 

Max expressed a triumphant smile when she finally freed herself from the thrashing swarm, but that short-lived triumph was snatched away once she noticed Nathan talking to Kate. She looked uncomfortable, leaning as far away from him as humanly possible from her perch on the chair. _'Take a hint, dumbass.'_ Max thought to herself as she stormed up to them, fully intending to save Kate from his unwanted presence.

"Sorry about that, Kate. Hayden just wanted to know about the photo I asked him to model in for me." Max explained once she was close enough and witnessed her shoulders instantly relax. She slid into the chair next to Kate then looked at Nathan, acting as if seeing him for the first time that night. "Ew." 

Nathan glared daggers at her, his lip curling up. 

"Fuck off, virgin. You shouldn't even be here." He spat at her, hinting at a matter that flew right over Kate's head.

Max kept up her impassive expression even as he stomped off towards what looked like a makeshift bar a few meters away.

"Thank you for saving me from him, Max. He was trying to make quick conversation but . . I couldn't invest myself in it. I don't trust him." Kate said, her mouth twisted into a frown.

"I arrived just in time then." 

Smiling gently in Kate's direction, Max saw the frown she exhibited slowly dissolve into nothing; she wasn't exactly beaming, but it was better than a long frown. 

"So how do you like the party so far? There's more people than I thought there'd be." Max said in an attempt to make some small talk. 

Kate shrugged her shoulders without much thought, her lips quirking off to the side. 

"I don't like it, actually. It's really loud and kind of stinky." 

At the mention of there being an aroma, Max took a whiff of the sexually charged air around them and could discern the distinct smell of sweat, marijuana and something else she couldn't name.

"I thought that was Nathan. Guess not." She quipped. 

Kate laughed the same moment Max received a text on the burner phone.

The text read: 'get ur ass over here'. Great. Nathan officially had long distance contact with her. Why hadn't she considered that earlier? Looking towards the 'bar', she caught sight of him leaning against it, staring right at her with a red plastic cup in his hand. 

"Want anything to drink? I'm thirsting for an iced tea." Max turned to ask that of Kate who nodded her head in reply. 

She slid out of her chair and reluctantly made her way to Nathan who was now facing the other way. He took a shot of what looked like water but reeked of death. Apparently no faculty members supervised these parties or its adolescent inhabitants; not only were there drugs, but alcohol too.

"Give this to Kate." He muttered, pushing a cup similar to his towards her across the long table. 

Peering inside, she saw the dark liquid filled up halfway, sloshing around and smelling like wine. She knew since she was pressured into drinking some in her youth with Chloe, though this one lacked a lot more fruitiness to it. Was that due to the drug? In this single cup held one of the strongest ones she's ever known and will _ever_ come to know. It was an overwhelmingly scary feeling being so doped up on something so seemingly harmless that you couldn't move a single muscle or even recall a memory.

"Pussying out already, Cockfield?" Nathan taunted when she lingered longer than necessary. 

"No, I'm just wondering if you put enough." She reponded flatly.

Nathan's smugness promptly morphed into a mixture of disbelief and shock in the span of a microsecond. He couldn't even bring himself to mask it.

Without glancing at his reaction to her crass words, she ordered the barkeep to get her a cup of water. He looked confused for a moment, not accustomed to handing out such a tasteless beverage at these wild parties, but did as requested without question and placed what she asked for directly in front of her.

"Thanks," She mumbled quietly then turned her eyes back at Nathan to see him taken aback by her.

"You're really gonna follow through with this, huh?" 

"Yup," She responded without pause. 

Shaking his head, he looked the other way, unable to stare at her for a moment longer. 

"When her eyes droop, speech slurs, and she starts to sway, take her out using the side exit of the school." He said to her in a rather professional manner before leaving her alone at the bar. 

Taking both cups in her hands, Max cautiously returned to the table where Kate still sat. Only this time, she wasn't alone. Dana Ward sat at the table with her and they were chatting up a storm.

"Hey, Max!" The bubbly, low-cut blouse-wearing teen greeted her as she approached. "Hayden wasn't lying when he said you two were here. Did you lose a bet or something?"

Max internally cursed as she sat down beside Kate, placing the cups on the table. Dana needed to beat it. _Now_.

"Um, no. We just wanted to break routine. " Max replied to Dana then stole a glance at Kate who shared with her a secret smile. "I got us red wine. They didn't have any tea." She informed her before she could lose her nerve and pushed the cup in Kate's direction. 

"Oh . . thank you, Max." 

Taking the cup, Kate looked inside of it briefly before bringing the edge to her lips and taking a sip. She gave no indication that she tasted any of the drug, only approval - a smile and a single nod of her head. 

"Can I have some?" Dana asked, ignoring the whistles from a group of guys behind her that desperately tried gaining her attention.

"Sure," 

Kate slid the cup to Dana and Max had to bite the inside of her cheek _hard_ to keep herself from jumping across the table to knock the cup out from her grubby hands. The taste of blood coated her tongue as she watched Dana tilt her head back, her throat bobbing with every gulp. 

"Whew! Good stuff." Dana declared enthusiastically, slamming the cup down to the table. 

Wine splattered out onto them in sticky red splotches all over Kate's shirt, part of Max's hair and Dana's face. 

"Oops," She giggled, stumbling out of her chair. She would've fallen right on her ass if one of the guys stalking her from behind hadn't caught her just in time. "I'll see you both later. Looking forward to the shoot, Max!" She shouted over the music as she staggered off with that guy holding her so she wouldn't fall again.

Max fought off the strong urge to scream. Everything was going so well until Dana showed up. Now she was going to be totally shit-faced with only the recollection of drinking wine as a focal point of her night.  
Unless she were to drink more and suffer complete amnesia upon waking so she wouldn't be able to remember a thing. She had already appeared slightly drunken even before she drank from the cup and that could work in Max's favor. She had to count on that otherwise she was in deep trouble. 

"Max," Kate murmured weakly, reaching her hand out to place onto Max's arm. "I don't feel so good." 

She knew better than anyone how fast-acting these drugs were. Looking at Kate now with her heavy lids and lax shoulders, it reminded her of when she was under and how awful it felt being so helpless and confused. She didn't let any of that get to her, though.

"You may need to lay down." Max suggested as she rose from her seat.

Kate didn't argue as Max helped her stand to her feet and led her to the exits of the gym. Everyone by now was too wasted to question why she had to be assisted, marking that out as one less thing for Max to worry about. 

"Must've been . . the wine . . ." Kate mumbled lethargically, her head lolling onto Max's shoulder. 

"You think so?" 

Kate's weight on her grew heavier the further they walked and she didn't say anything else even when they finally reached the outdoors. A cool surge of wind billowed as the two girls kissed the edge of the lot and Kate's legs finally gave out from under her. She dropped to her knees on the cold pavement and Max caught her by the hand before she could fall and possibly injure her head. 

"How sweet," Nathan's sardonic voice spoke from behind her. 

The desire to ignore him was strong, but he was her only ticket to Mark, so she had to 'push her differences aside', as he said to her Friday afternoon, and face him. 

"Are you gonna carry her or not?" 

He smirked as he leaned against the brick wall, arms and ankles crossed, his hungry gaze roving up and down Kate's unconscious figure.

"Dunno. I kinda like seeing her this way." He revealed with a wickedly toothy grin.

Max growled at him as she shielded Kate's body from view with her own.

"You're sick." 

He threw his head back and laughed tartly. 

"That's rich comin' from you. We're on the same team, you and I. Just look at what you did to your _friend_. If _I'm_ sick, what does that make you?" 

She shook her head rapidly, refusing to hear any more of what he had to say. He was trying to make her feel guilty, to harbor some regret for what she's done. In that moment, she only felt impatient . . . and cold - the weather was always a few degrees cooler at night.

"If we're 'on the same team', then you'll pick her up and haul ass to your truck. _Now_." She hissed at him icily. 

For a moment, he was stunned. It showed vividly on his face and thanks to the street lights nearby, she could see it clearly.

" _No one_ tells me what to do." He growled right back at her. 

She instinctively took a step back from him, but he closed the small distance she made by drawing closer until his hand shot out between them, his fingers snaking around her throat.

"Not you, my father, Jefferson, or that whore in the bathroom!"

Normally, fear would've gripped her entire being, rendering her paralyzed and useless. Even the threatening look in his wild gaze was more than enough to chill her to the bone, but not this time. This time, she fought against him, tooth and nail. Mostly nail. Reaching up to his face, she dug her nails deep into the flesh of his cheek and raked them down across the whole of it. Nathan howled in agony by the sharp, ringing pain and shoved her away from him. Max fell right on her ass, cracking the phone she kept in the back pocket of her jeans. It was quite possibly broken, but that was the least of her worries. 

The icy-cold and gritty ground bit into the palms of her hands as she helped herself back up, her breathing sharp and ragged. 

Her wide eyes watched Nathan like a hawk as he leaned against the wall with his shoulder, keeping his face hidden. She could feel pieces of his skin wedged underneath her fingernails as she gently rubbed her throbbing throat where his touch could still be sensed.

Time was wasting. They couldn't stand there and loathe eachother _all_ night. And by the looks of Nathan, he wasn't going to be the one who made the first move.

Pressing her lips firmly together, Max rounded him until they were face to face. 

"Unless you'd like to explain to Mark why we're late, I think we should beat it."

Nathan rolled his eyes. The stinging pain on his cheek subsided only a fraction and the trickles of blood accompanying it stained his fingers as he held them to the wound. Max didn't know she dug that deep. Seeing the blood coating his fingers made her feel a tincture of guilt. 

_Stop feeling bad for him, Max. He laid his hands on **you** first. You were only defending yourself. Cool it. _

Without muttering a word, he wiped his cheek clean with the sleeve of his jacket before bending to pick Kate up from the ground. Meanwhile, Max didn't hesitate to get as far away from him as possible. His overcompensating red truck wasn't hard to spot and soon, she was sprinting up to it. 

If he wasn't carrying precious cargo, she wouldn't have bothered helping him in the slightest, but did so anyway since she grew a liking towards Kate. She popped the back door to the SUV open and he gave her a disgruntled groan in return. It went ignored by her as she kept close watch of how he placed her in the backseat, making sure his hands didn't wander. With that task complete, he slammed the door shut and brushed past Max to get into the truck. 

"You comin' or not?" He asked as he piled into the front seat. 

Max bolted to the other side of the vehicle and climbed in, her heart beginning to race from the adrenaline and excitement of seeing Mark again. It'd only been a day and she desperately wanted to see him. It was childish, she knew. _She_ was childish and needed to grow out of her silly crush already. 

And there may be only one way to do that.

────────────────────────

The roads were dark and the truck was silent. Inside, that is. Outside, the vehicle roared like thunder, especially when Nathan's foot pressed on the gas. 

Max stared longingly out the window, eager to see her idol again. She hoped she'll be able to linger while he did his thing. Maybe even give her a few hands-on pointers. He wanted her there for a reason and that could very well be it. 

The truck turned left onto a long, dirt pathway that led to the barn, her pulse escalating higher with every turn of the tires that rolled them closer and closer to the dark room, to Mark. She was successful in calming herself down as he parked the truck just shy from the entrance. The butterflies in her stomach, however, was a another matter that she couldn't fix with a few deep breaths. 

Nathan bundled Kate up in his arms while Max took the lead. Slowly, they descended the steps to the underground bunker and came across the thick, vault-like door protected by a passcode. Nathan said nothing as he brushed past Max to enter the code, shifting Kate's weight a little so she wouldn't fall. It was a small kindness that didn't go overlooked by Max. The door unlocked with a small click from the inside and Max took the liberty of turning the circular handle and giving it a forceful shove, opening it wide for Nathan and Kate to enter.

"Why couldn't you have just told me the code?" She asked as he walked by.

"Why else? He doesn't want you knowing it yet." 

_Of course. Mark still doesn't trust me completely. Fair enough._

Nothing more was exhanged between the two as she halted midstep inside the room adjacent to the studio. Nathan stepped through the thick transparent curtain that separated the rooms and immediately heard Mark's voice address him as soon as he walked in. Max stood still for a moment, breathing in and out steadily through her mouth and nose like she did in the truck. During her ministrations, she shivered involuntarily; the dark room felt as cold as it did outside and the thin sweater she wore aided little in keeping her warm. 

After taking a few more deep, calming breaths and ignoring the biting cold, she stepped past the threshold to see Nathan sulking in a lone corner beside the printer, arms crossed, and Mark standing across the room with his back turned to her. Their short interaction didn't last very long. She wondered if Nathan hid the scar that now marred part of his face from him and realized he must've if Mark wasn't demanding to know the story behind it that would take more than two minutes to explain.

Her eyes then roved over to Kate's unmoving form on the stark white backdrop, sleeping peacefully, soundly. If she knew what was happening to her, she'd scream. Did Mark like it when they screamed? 

"Where's Max?" He asked Nathan as he prepared his station on the small trolley that was home to a plethora of syringes and drugs, effectively halting her disturbing train of thought.

"I'm here," She answered before Nathan could and took a small step forward. 

Upon hearing her voice, he turned to face her with his camera in hand. He kept his sigh of relief bottled up as he took her in, finally reassured seeing her in the flesh again, unharmed or shaken up with the task he assigned to her. Bonus, she didn't appear to be angry at him anymore.

There was an annoying part of him that thought she wouldn't be able to follow through with it, that she'll get cold feet and finally report his illegal activities to the useless authorities. But seeing her standing before him, shy and nervous and clothed so modestly for a party, it made him appreciate her all the more.

With him facing her, she drank his image in greedily. He wore a black fitted crew neck sweater as opposed to the immaculate dress shirts she's so used to seeing him in. The sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, molding perfectly against his lean torso that left much to be desired.

"Boy, it sure is chilly out there, huh? I probably should've worn something thicker." She gushed out thoughtlessly and mentally slapped herself for sounding like an idiot. 

Mark's lips twitched, partially amused. Then he flicked his gaze to Nathan and threw him a dismissive motion with his head. Nathan muttered a string of curse words under his breath as he walked out, his irritation evident.

Now that they were alone, he placed his camera down on the trolley behind him and stepped up to her for an examination, of sorts. Taking her chin firmly in his hand, he tilted her head to the side in the light to inspect her eyes. They weren't dilated, good. Next, he had to check if she'd been drinking. Even a sip was intolerable. Unhurriedly, he inched his face closer to hers, so close until they shared the very oxygen in the air. 

Her breath hitched higher by his gentle touch and sharp look in his brown gaze. Then it ceased completely when he drew closer. For a split second, she thought he was going to kiss her and she foolishly closed her eyes for that sweet, delicious moment she's been craving ever since she got here. It never came. Her eyes darted open in time to see him pull slightly away. His hold on her chin remained though and he stared deeply into her eyes, tight-lipped.

"Open." He ordered abruptly. 

Max hesitated, both from fear and uncertainty. _Why-_

" _Open_." He repeated, his grip on her chin tightening. 

She dropped her jaw open and he twisted her head to the side like before to get a better look inside her mouth, particularly her tongue. It was stained red. Wine, perhaps? Or punch . . 

"What'd you drink tonight, Maxine?" He asked her quietly.

"Nothing," She answered meekly then quickly added as an afterthought, "Actually, I did have some water."

He failed to see any telltale signs of deceit flash across her face, but a strong part of him didn't want to believe her, didn't want to _trust_ her word. As his eyes scanned her face, he noticed something odd going on with her bangs. It looked wet and matted. Releasing her chin, he took the glove off from his right hand with his teeth as his left wound its way to the back of her skull to keep her in place in case she tried moving. 

"What are you doing?" He heard her question instead as his fingers felt the sticky strands of hair. He didn't answer. Sniffing the area, it smelled faintly of her shampoo, but mostly consisted of the fruity pungent scent of wine. 

"How the hell did you get wine in your hair?" 

She inwardly cringed. _Goddamn it, Dana._

"You know how parties go. Things got a little wild." She hedged, swallowing nervously. 

Mark studied her. It was strange, her breath didn't smell like anything, yet her tongue had a deeper tint to it and there was evidence of wine in her hair. Things weren't adding up, but he granted her the luxury of personal space as he backed off towards the trolley.

Max breathed out a weary sigh as he busied himself. Being so close to him for a certain amount of time sapped her energy. Studying him now, he appeared fine, unaffected. _Bastard._

"Explain why your tongue is discolored, then."

With knitted brows, she clucked her tongue a few times to the roof of her mouth. It tasted faintly of blood, reminding her of the hard bite she delivered to her cheek when Dana took several swigs of the spiked drink. 

"I bite the inside of my cheek from time to time to the point where it bleeds. It's a habit. I . . like the taste." She lied without much effort. She didn't like lying to him, but it was better than the alternative - telling the truth about Dana. It was a fuck up on her part and he'd threaten to kick her out of here if he knew. It was no wonder he didn't want her knowing the passcode to the dark room yet - she's yet to prove herself worthy. And if she told him the truth, she'd never know it, so she kept her lips sealed.

"You like the taste of blood?" He asked with an arched brow as he placed the glove he removed back onto his hand. 

"Only my own." 

Plucking the camera back up, he pursed his lips in thought and strolled on over to Kate who remained as still as a corpse. With his analysis of Max officially over, he came to the conclusion that she hadn't a drop of alcohol or drugs in her system, much to his pleasure and relief. Things like that muddled the brain, corrupting ones natural purity. 

"I'll have to bear that in mind." He purred, unintentionally making it sound flirtatious when more darker thoughts coursed through his mind. 

The pit of Max's stomach twisted pleasurably in response to the seductive timbre of his masculine voice and she swooned like an average teenage girl would before moving to sit on the couch, giving her weak legs some much needed rest after that whole ordeal. He believed her. That was a successful step forward in their budding relationship. Albeit a small one considering he believed a lie.

Several silent minutes passed without him telling her to leave, or anything for that matter, so she was left to assume he wanted her here, to observe and learn from the expert. Max snuggled into the couch and circled her arms around herself in an attempt to make herself comfortable. Due to the thick transparent plastic sheeting that covered the entirety of the couch, her movements created quite a bit of noise to the point where Mark had to take pause and glance at her over his shoulder. 

One hard look was all it took for Max to cease her distracting movements. 

Everything she did that night led her to this point in time, sitting in an underground bunker with a famous photographer she's looked up to for years. A peculiar sense of pride sparked to life within her, prompting her lips to quirk into a hesitant smile as she watched him remove the cap from the lens of his camera in anticipation. Her excitement had built up to a peak to the point where she needed to pinch herself to keep herself from fidgeting and making too much sound. Interrupting him _now_ wouldn't be wise. 

Finally, after dimming the lights with a small remote Mark pulled out from the front pocket of his jeans, Kate's photo session was about to begin.


	18. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being patient, guys. 🙂 It shall be rewarded - here's chapter 18! Enjoy.

Max couldn't sit still. Being in front of the lens wasn't anything like being behind it. From this angle, she had a better understanding of how Mark skillfully frames his models. He moved with a confidence only a photographer of his caliber could possess, every move deliberate yet languid, and his face held a concentration that Max had never seen on him before - drawn brows, focused eyes, fixed lips; it was an unforgettable experience to witness Mark Jefferson at work.

When he wasn't stationary or taking photos, he moved with feline-like grace across the backdrop, gently positioning Kate's body to pose however he wanted.  
Max was fascinated with how effortless he made it all look. His grip on her ankles and arms were loose, never tight or hard enough to stir her from her slumber or leave behind marks, and his hands never faltered or strayed. Every move he made was calculated and confident, traits Max ' _Selfie_ ' could never possess.

He moved Kate in a variety of different positions and took pictures of her in each one whilst murmuring his appreciation of her innocence and virtue. It was something he did subconsciously without even realizing it. After all, it wasn't like Kate could hear him. 

But Max could and she shamefully felt a pang of jealousy shoot straight into her chest like an arrow. It wasn't that she wanted to be tied up and drugged again, not entirely, but it was rather over the sweet words he muttered to another girl while she lay unconscious and ignorant. They were words Mark hadn't said to _her_ since the night she was in Kate's shoes. Shaking off the ridiculous emotions she felt, Max refocused on watching him meticulously at work.

The room was relatively quiet with only the soft hum of the AC kicking in at certain intervals of time and the discernable click of the camera with every photograph Mark took. The sound soothed her and she found it oddly therapeutic regardless of the circumstances.

"Hand me a roll of tape, Max?" His voice penetrated through the silence, tugging her back from the cold that bled through her thin clothing. The way he asked was so polite and soft, reminiscent of the time when he asked her for a tripod on that first day of class.

"But before that, put on a pair of these." He told her, raising one gloved hand and wiggling his fingers to emphasize what he meant. "There's an opened box of them on the trolley there." 

Standing to her feet, Max followed where his finger led and took out two gloves from the tiny box left on the bottom of the trolley. As she pulled them on over her small hands, she moved to grab the tape that was on the glass desk beside a vibrant red binder with Kate's name written on the spine of it. She snagged the tape up then walked back to Mark with her arm outstretched to him. He was browsing through the photos on his camera when she drew closer to him with the item he asked for. 

He smiled at her in thanks before making a lazy gesture towards Kate. 

"Now tie her limbs together." He commanded casually but firmly.

Her mouth fell open as she looked down at the round silver binding. She didn't want to tape Kate's wrists together. Ironic that Max could drug and kidnap her, but couldn't put a little tape on her wrists and ankles? If she voiced her discomfort with this to Mark, he would surely bring that point up and she didn't want to hear what she already knew. 

The tape felt heavy in her hands as she slowly walked up to Kate. She laid on her side, the golden cross necklace she wore strewn across the backdrop beneath her. 

"God's not here." Max murmured silently to deaf ears. 

Kneeling down, she tossed Mark a quick glance over her shoulder to see him looking down towards his camera, musing quietly to himself as he examined his work. She smiled vaguely to herself before turning her attention back at the task she'd been assigned.

Taking a deep breath, she peeled the tape out, gathered Kate's wrists and attempted to tie them together. Being the klutz she was, her inexperienced fingers failed to maneuver the sticky stuff around and it soon slipped from her hold, rolling across the white backdrop until Mark stopped it with his foot. She looked up in time to see an amused grin splayed on his face that made him look more youthful than he actually was and her heart fluttered seeing it. 

"Here, let me show you." He said as he lowered himself down beside her. 

She felt his gloved hands caress against her own and she tore her gaze away from his captivating eyes to see what he was doing with them.

"Start at the back of the wrist." 

With his physical and verbal guidance, Max's hands did as he suggested beneath his own. Together, they stuck the adhesive at the back of Kate's wrist and he pulled away to make a circular motion with his hand.

"Hold the hands firmly together and wrap the tape around several times until it's snug." 

Kate's hands felt cold to the touch even through the glove Max wore and she shivered involuntarily when the image of a frigid corpse popped into mind, her body tensing up in unease. Promptly after, she felt Mark pat her shoulder in earnest. He'd noticed. 

With the disturbing image slowly fading away from her thoughts, she resumed her previous ministrations in tying Kate's wrists together. She wasn't as perturbed as she was initially and it wasn't nearly as difficult as expected.

"Not too tight," He advised from beside her. "You don't want to leave behind any evidence of tonight's events." 

Max nodded in understanding as she finished up and ripped the roll apart from the tape bound around Kate's limbs. Something told her he may have learned that from experience. 

"Very good. Now, do the same with the ankles and you're done." He informed her as he stood back up to his feet. 

As sick as it may be, she kind of enjoyed the lesson and craved more of it. Could you blame her? She didn't get _that_ kind of teaching at school. The question lied on whether he'd take the bait or not since tying together the ankles wasn't as challenging as the wrists. 

She scooted off to Kate's bottom half and purposely held herself back from successfully binding her ankles. The adhesive got stuck onto each other so she'd tear those pieces off to start over, hoping within that time he'd notice her struggling. She allowed the tape to slip from her fingers after multiple failed attempts and had to bite down a laugh as she crawled on her hands and knees to catch the roll before it could get too far. 

Mark beat her to it by plucking the tape right off from the floor. He knew what she was doing, she made it blatantly obvious with her painful display of feigned ignorance. It was a bold move and he was more than willing to play along. 

"Need more assistance, Miss Caulfield?" He inquired, smoothly transitioning into the character of a concerned professor. 

A coquettish smile slid up her face as he lowered himself back down beside her, closer to her than he was previously. _Score_. 

"I do, Mr. Jefferson. My hands aren't as adept as yours in this matter." She answered, sliding into her role just as easily, her voice soft and kittenish. 

She had no idea where this seductive Max came from, but she didn't want her to leave. For once, she felt confident and attractive. And from the way he looked at her now, she knew it affected him. 

He darted his tongue out to moisten his dry lips, avid brown eyes taking in the position she was in. On her knees, legs spread a modest distance apart, hands on her lap, back arched - it was a submissive posture and his cock gradually hardened the more he indulged in it. Both his mind and body were responsive to her and he despised it. Nothing good could come from a relationship with her, sexual or otherwise. He'd learned his lesson with Rachel, though what he felt for Max wasn't just lust; there's something more there that has created a constant battle between giving in to explore what that something is or holding out. Regardless, it was dangerous and far too risky. On top of that, he still didn't fully trust her. He was just waiting - and dreading - for that moment of clarity to wash over her and then it'll be over. 

"Watch and learn." He said, forcing the strain out from his voice as he wrapped the tape around Kate's ankles. 

Luckily for him, Max didn't notice the growing bulge in his dark jeans; the shadows in the room were in his favor. Her eyes were trained on his hands as they handled the tape, tearing what was used away from the roll before placing it to the side.

"Practice makes perfect."

She nodded her head in agreement then turned her body to face him. He was sounding and acting weird out of nowhere and she didn't like it. Had she said or done something wrong? She opened her mouth to ask only to be silenced when he spoke up first.

"Max, could you go get Nathan for me? My session here is nearing its end and I need him ready to head out." 

Despite him dismissing her, there was a glimmer of hope in what he'd said. He mentioned only Nathan heading out, not her. However, she couldn't express her delight when he was acting so strangely. He didn't even move, only turned his head, shielding his face from view. 

"Mark, are you okay?" She asked tentatively, reaching her hand out to brush against his shoulder. 

He stiffened from the contact and she jerked her hand back as if she'd been burned. 

"Don't make me ask you again, Maxine. Go." He muttered, keeping his face hidden from her. 

Max frowned at the back of his head before shooting up to her feet and darting out of the room, discarding the gloves on her way out. He sighed when she'd gone and buried his face into his hands. His desire for her was only growing and becoming more challenging with every moment they spent together alone. He had to remedy that. Maybe then his wants and needs for her will expire. 

He scoffed to himself. ' _Yeah right_.' 

────────────────────────

Max kicked at the dirt as she paced outside the barn. Her arms were wrapped loosely around her torso to keep some body warmth while Nathan stood a few yards away, nice and toasty in his orange jacket. He was smoking a joint when she came out muttering under her breath. He chuckled hearing it since he knew that feeling of frustration all too well when it came to Jefferson. 

"He says for you to get ready to take Kate back to Blackwell. He's almost finished." She told him after a few more paces. 

He didn't respond, only took another drag of his blunt. 

"Did you hear me?" She stopped her pacing to stare him down, eyes squinted.

Again, he didn't reply and repeated his actions from before, smirking when she groaned and resumed her fitful strides. 

Max wasn't in the mood to deal with him right then. With a defeated sigh, she leaned against the hood of Nathan's truck and laid her head down onto her arms, her face buried into the fabric of her sweater. An owl called into the night somewhere overhead as a cold rush of air billowed through, chilling her to the core. She shivered, clenching her teeth tightly together to keep them from chattering when she felt a light nudge at her elbow. Lifting her head, she saw Nathan standing beside her, offering her a hit. As kind and out of character as the offer was, she refused it.

He shrugged and flicked the doobie to the ground. 

"I got a question," He started suddenly, startling her with the softness of his usually tense and angry voice. "This whole thing," He swept a lousy hand in the air. "With Kate. Drugging her, kidnapping her . . . was it something you genuinely wanted to do, Max? Or are you as afraid as I am of getting Jefferson angry?" 

Max had no inkling of what to say in that moment. One, he used her actual name without adding an offensive spin to it and two, he sounded genuine - a tone she never expected to hear come from his vocal chords. She was so awestruck by the immense contrast of demeanor that his question went unheard. The only thing that didn't get sifted was the word ' _afraid_ '. What was he afraid of?

"Could you repeat that?" She blurted out, blinking away the shock he unknowingly put her in just by being cordial.

Nathan shook his head, smiling wryly as he swept a hand through his hair.

"Forget it. I was talking outta' my ass." 

She narrowed her eyes, curious of what he'd said, but not enough to nag him about it. It probably wasn't important anyway. 

"It was smart of you keeping your mouth shut about what went down in the girl's bathroom, by the way." He spoke up again as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

She had to crane her neck to look at him, the poor lighting, or lack thereof, making it impossible for her to see much of anything. Despite this, she could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn't trying to be mean or scornful. He seemed genuine for a change and it creeped her out; she wasn't used to it. 

"The principal wouldn't have done shit anyway." She mumbled, turning her head the other direction so she wouldn't have to stare at his silhouette a moment longer. That day in the bathroom felt like it happened years ago. Chloe was almost gunned down when Max swooped in like a hero to save her ass. But, unlike a hero, she didn't report the incident and she was glad she didn't. Thwarting Nathan could've impacted Mark as well and what would have happened then? He most likely would've followed through with his original plan and killed her.

Another gush of wind rolled on by and Max couldn't keep her teeth from chattering this time around. If she wasn't feeling particularly proud or unwanted, she'd have booked it back inside the bunker after telling Nathan what he needed to hear. 

As she internally warred with herself on whether she should go back inside or not, something warm encased itself around her shoulders and she tensed, reaching up to touch the smooth, unfamiliar fabric that now enveloped her. Nathan had placed his jacket over her quivering frame, but out of what, pitty or sincere kindness? 

_'Suppose it doesnt matter,'_ She thought quietly to herself. _'Just don't get used to it, Max.'_

"Thanks," She said as she pushed herself off the truck to slide her arms through the long sleeves. 

"Call it even for not being a tattletale." 

Her eyes narrowed at him, trying desperately to make out his shrouded facial expression to no avail. Cannabis made him somewhat nicer, it seemed. Maybe the drug wasn't all that bad. 

"Nathan?"

"Hm?"

"I'm . . sorry." She apologized and elaborated before he could question what she was apologizing for. "For scratching you so badly. I didn't know-" 

"It's cool, Max." He interrupted her, not wanting to hear any more of what she wanted to say - there was no point to it. "I was pretty much asking for it when I put my hands on you."

She couldn't disagree with that. Smiling awkwardly to ease some of the growing tension, she took a step back, preparing to re-enter the dark room when she heard him speak her name similarly to how she muttered his.

"Max?" 

"Yes?" She turned back around to face him, her guard up.

"Could you . . _not_ tell him about that? Please?"

Although it was dark out with little to no illumation, she could still vaguely see the fear swimming within his eyes. What Nathan was afraid of wasn't the right question to ask, but rather _who._ Mark scared him and Max completely understood why - he was intimidating and could snap easily if given enough incentive. She learned that from experience and perhaps Nathan had as well in the past. He may be a bully and an asshole who deserves all the karma in the world, but she knew how frightening Mark could be, having nightmares as proof, and wouldn't wish that turmoil on anyone, not even him. 

"I won't say a word." She solemly vowed. 

Nathan exhaled a shaky breath he'd been holding in and conjured up what he hoped resembled something of a smile. He didn't express one all too often these days and briefly thought he'd forgotten how. 

"Thanks, Max. I - uh . . . I guess I owe ya' one."

"Don't mention it." She brushed it off followed by a subconscious shrug of her shoulder. 

Nathan looked away, scratching the back of his neck as he shifted on his feet.

"We better get back in there." He suggested. "As you probably already know, Jefferson kinda has a temper."

' _Oh, I know._ ' She thought to herself as she led the way back into the dark room with Nathan right on her heels. 

During the duration of Max being topside, Mark managed to take dozens of more photos of Kate with her eyes slightly ajar. It was beautiful witnessing how it all came crashing down in terms of innocence lost. He was right in choosing her as a subject. She possessed every quality he looked for in a model.

He heard his pupils enter just as he was wrapping up shop. The tape had been cut apart from her wrists and ankles and the sweater he removed from her was back in its original place. 

"You know the drill, Nathan. Take the subject back to Blackwell, leave no scratches or marks, and be attentive. Got that?" Mark said to him routinely as he placed the lens carefully back onto his camera and shelved it in one of the sliding door wall units. 

"Yup." Nathan uttered in reply, moving to bundle Kate up in his arms. 

"Need help?" Max asked him as he lifted her up from the floor with a light grunt. 

Mark whirled around to see her swathed in Nathan's oversized jacket. Taking in the image of her garbed in another male's clothing set something off inside him, something animalistic and territorial. Like the wolf guarding the sheep, he was willing to tear his ravenous canines into anything that threatened to take her away from him. 

Before Nathan could think of a response, Mark had gone up behind Max to take the jacket that reeked of weed off from her tiny body. She didn't protest, only looked up at him curiously as he strung the jacket over the back of the couch. 

"Nathan can handle this task himself." He told her, scowling. "Right?" He directed that line of questioning to the teen who had Kate wrapped up in his arms. Nathan took one final look at Max who was too self-absorbed from what happened to say or do anything. She bit the inside of her cheek, sensing the increase of pressure in the air. 

"Right." Nathan mumbled before heading right out of the dark room, leaving Max alone with a fuming Mark. 

After hearing the door click shut, she felt his large hand grab her jaw and yank it up, forcing her eyes to drown into his furious ones. 

"You serve _me_ , Maxine, not _him_. And I don't ever want to see you wearing anything of his again. Do you hear me?" He scolded her, borderline yelling. 

Tears stung her eyes as she shoved him roughly away from her and much to her surprise, it worked. He stumbled back from her, seething with the veins of his neck protruding. Maybe he'd allowed her to push him away. Either way, he was a good distance away from her which was exactly what she wanted. 

"I'm not your slave, Mark!" She wailed as she fought to keep her tears at bay. 

One slipped out against her wishes and dribbled down the curve of her cheek, leaving an icy trail in its wake. 

"I want to be your partner in all of this." She continued with a sweep of her arm, forcefully smothering the thick emotion that threatened to break through her quivering voice. "I did everything you asked of me and it went well, didn't it?" 

He couldn't speak. Not when she struggled to keep herself from crying and screaming at him, morphing her usual soft spoken voice into something he couldn't recognize. 

"Why can't you trust me?" She groaned, her head hung low.

She didn't care about his jealousy over Nathan. That wasn't the bigger picture here. Although she _did_ think it was petty of him. It was only a jacket and an innocent question, it wasn't like she fucked him or anything. The mere thought disgusted her. 

So caught up in her wild musings, she didn't notice Mark cautiously step closer to her. Daring to look him in the eye again, she felt herself falter when she saw the hurt in them. 

Unbeknownst to her, being pushed like that by her felt like a stab to his chest. It pained him and he sought to heal the emotional wound she left behind. 

Both teacher and student let out a soft exhale of pent up air when his gloved hand made contact with the skin of her cheek. His finger wiped a solitary tear away and a choked sob wrenched its way through her throat. Threatening one moment, tender the next. She felt like she was experiencing a serious case of whiplash from how he jumped from one emotion to the next so smoothly. 

"I don't know how." He admitted quietly as he dragged his hand down to her throat, rubbing soothing circles there.

His other hand pressed against the side of her head, his fingers burying into the soft locks of her hair. He tilted his head down until their foreheads barely touched. Max wanted to look up into his eyes, but they were closed, a painful expression tarnishing his beautiful face. 

Slowly, she moved her own hands from her sides and up his hard chest, her fingertips barely grazing against the fine fabric of his sweater. She gently took his face in her small hands and he reacted instantly by shooting his eyes wide open, his body hardening. He'd forgotten how long it'd been since someone held him like this and he wasn't sure if he liked it or not.

"I could teach you." She whispered. "If you'll let me." 

They stared at each other for a long while, neither one of them saying anything. 

She wanted to kiss him. His lips were right there in front of her, only inches away. But she'd be damned if she ever initiated the first move. Their relationship was to be professional, he'd said once upon a time at his condo, and he seemed to have meant it. Still, the way he lashed out at her about Nathan hinted at there being feelings he tried hard to keep hidden and it was quickly tearing at the seams.

"I said I'd try to trust you back in the woods, but I'll be honest and say I haven't done much trying." He murmured as he closed his eyes, his forehead wrinkling as though he were in physical pain. 

She hated seeing him this way, so lost and tormented. Yes, he yelled at her and made her cry, but she didn't have it in her to hold any of that against him. She saw the pain in his eyes, an old pain that he conceals behind a camera lens. It was only for a moment, but she saw it flicker to life when she shoved him away from her. To make up for that, her hands dropped down from his face to encircle her arms around his neck, burying her face into the crook of it. 

Mark didn't hesitate to return the gesture. His long, strong arms wrapped around her lithe torso, pulling her closer to him until their bodies were flush against one another. 

She inhaled his heady scent of cologne and musk that clung to his skin like a sheet. Bravely, she tilted her head further up to brush her lips gently against his neck and he tightened his hold on her in response, crushing her to him. 

"What do I have to do to get you to open up to me? To _trust_ me?" She breathed against him, making him shudder.

There was nothing she could do. It all rested upon him and he refused to willingly put himself through that again. He was a grown man now, the one in charge and in control of everything he allowed in his life, including Max; he couldn't tolerate anything less than that. 

He turned his head slightly to the side, burying his nose into her hair where he took a long whiff of the sweet aroma before pulling himself away from her. Frowning, she reluctantly dropped her arms from around his neck and sadly watched him walk away from her. The answer to her question was evident by his silence and abrupt detachment from her. He wandered off towards the entertainment system that held an mp3 player filled with some of his favorite tunes. 

"Sit down, Max." He told her calmly as he pressed play on a random song.

Jane Monheit's ' _Never Let Me Go_ ' flooded the room with its soft chords and slow, haunting melody. Max went to lounge on the couch, listening to the beautiful song he put on that felt slightly relatable.

"Was that intentional?" She asked him as he sunk into the cushion furthest from her. 

He blinked at her, head tilted. "Was what intentional?" 

She pressed her lips together and looked away from his dull gaze. Apparently not.

Memories of the last time they sat on the couch swarmed her head as she rubbed at her upper arms. Back then he'd been curious about her, watching her closely, but now, he was somewhere far off and his eyes looked dead; she couldn't begin to guess where his mind was. 

She saw him move in her peripheral vision and turned her blue gaze onto him just as he pulled his dark crew neck sweater over his head. Underneath that, he wore a plain white t-shirt and it lifted slightly at the seam, giving her a glimpse of his hip bone and stomach. 

"Next time you need something, come to _me_ , not Nathan." He said as he handed the sweater to her. 

"I didn't go to him," She explained, taking the article of clothing and eagerly slipping it on, cloaking herself in his heady scent. "He put it on me." 

One brown eyebrow rose, his frown deepening.

"He was being nice to me for once, Mark. It's nothing to get mad over."  

He chuckled dryly as he stroked his beard. _'Like hell it wasn't. That's how it started and then she'll try to leave me just like-'_ He took a deep, calming breath, shutting his eyes so he couldn't see her, so _she_ couldn't see his vulnerability. It was futile, her keen eye already caught it. She scooted closer to him on the couch, bringing her legs up beneath her. 

"I want to try something." She said as she inched her hands towards his. 

One eye partly opened to see what she was doing. She carefully removed the thin transparent gloves he wore and tossed them on the low table beside them before taking both of his hands in her much smaller ones and bringing them up to her neck. His eyes were fully open by that point as she placed them on the smooth skin of her throat. Looking at him, she noticed a thin halo of brown was all that made up of his isrises, his pupils large and hungry. 

"What are you doing, Max?" He questioned, his voice breathy and hardly audible. 

She smiled impishly at him and prompted him to tighten his grip on her. 

"Trusting you." 

This would be not only serve as a trust exercise, but also as a distraction from the thoughts and memories that haunted him. It was a win-win. 

His thumb brushed over her jugular, feeling her rapid pulse beating rhythmically against his fingertips. He swallowed, dampening his lips with his tongue as he did as she insisted. Her eyes fell shut as he applied more and more pressure, gradually closing the oxygen flow through her trachea. 

"Open your eyes, Maxine. Look at me." He demanded tightly, his grip on her increasing, stealing her breath away. 

Dots danced across her vision, her eyes wide and lost within his. Max drowned herself in the scary yet intoxicating feeling of teetering back and forth on the brink of consciousness while Mark thrived in being in control of her very life. Like a lens to a camera, they connected on a deep, personal, emotional and erotic level that neither one of them could fathom and it couldn't and wouldn't be severed easily by anyone or anything. He knew that now, but that didn't mean he wouldn't get jealous or possessive of her; it was in his nature. 

Without a doubt the girl trusted him, fully and wholeheartedly. Now if he could learn to return the gesture, only then would a potential relationship work between them. Still, even as he squeezed the breath from her lungs, he didn't. Not completely. He'd have to give her another test, one that would undoubtedly earn his trust. It didn't come easy to him, but for Max, he was willing to try. 

Her vision began to blur at the edges, mouth parting slightly open as she felt her face grow numb from the lack of blood flow to it. She probably looked like a dying tomato, but he didn't seem to mind it. In fact, the discoloration of her face egged him on further; the shift in hue was gorgeous to his sharp-set eyes. For the second and, hopefully, the final time that night, his dick strained painfully against his pants and he groaned out his frustration at it, his grip tightening on her in response. 

Max gagged as something warm and wet soaked through her panties. She would've gasped if she was physically able. Mark didn't allow it, just kept on squeezing her pretty little neck until he was sure he'd leave behind a lovely violet necklace for all to see - yet another mark embedded on her. Any color of the scale, especially purple, looked stunning against her milky complexion with the bruises that had been on her wrists serving as proof. Plus, it distracted him from the maddening part of him that screamed for plump lips and a pliable throat. 

Swaying from the brink of consciousness, he released her and caught her head before it could tip over. She swallowed in deep gulps of air as he held her face close to his own. Her gaze hadn't wavered from his that whole time and he couldn't be more pleased with her. She'd come far from that shy girl who couldn't look at him for more than a few seconds to this alluring, confident one who put more trust in him than he deserved. 

"Oh, Max." He breathed shakily, cradling her head close to his chest. 

His fingers raked through her short hair, lips pressed gently against the edge of her hairline.

"Thank you. You've given me a gift and I _will_ grant you the same. Eventually. Just give me some more time, okay?" 

Max panted against him throughout his admission, trying to regain a normal breathing pattern again. She didn't verbally respond to him. By draping her arm over his waist, she understood.

Shifting her body to lean more comfortably againt him, she felt the foreign dampness between her legs. Part of her was shocked for being sexually aroused by such an act while a different part was just happy that he was no longer distressed and that they both took enjoyment out of the intimate moment they shared.

Mark's hand threading through her hair helped calm her rapid breaths. Those dexterous hands were capable of anything, she's come to learn; taping limbs together, shoveling, filling syringes, and now choking. 

"Max?" He murmured softly, the hand in her hair dropping down to cup her flushed cheek. 

She looked up at him through heavy lids when prompted, a small smile playing on her pink lips. 

"Yes?" She whispered meekly.

His thumb ran across her soft cheekbone and again when he envisioned tears streaming down it with him subconsciously wiping them away. 

"I need you to promise me something." 

He stilled as her hand went up to caress his bearded cheek. It felt soft beneath her fingers, neither prickly or unpleasant. 

"Anything," 

He smiled faintly at that. ' _We'll see_.'

"Promise me that you'll be _my_ protégé and mine alone. Not just down here or in class, but for your professional photographic career as well." 

Her lips slowly parted in shock, her hands falling down from his face. Words evaded her in that moment. All she could manage to do was smile brightly up at him and hope he didn't take her silence as disrespectful. In truth, she felt honored and utterly undeserving of his guidance. Simply knowing that he personally wanted to play a hand in shaping her future in photography overwhelmed her more than anything else she's experienced.

The pressure of his warm hand on her cheek eventually pulled her back from the initial shock. She blinked up at him, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry. I'm just at a complete loss of words. Are . . ." She paused to briefly gape at the sincerity written across his face. Still, she needed to ask just to be certain. "I mean . . are you sure you want . . _me_ as your protégé?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" He asked in turn, hoping to quell some of her insecurities. 

Shrugging her shoulder, Max averted her gaze downward towards her trembling hands that refused to do anything but give away how nervous she felt. 

_His and his alone . . . Why are you hesitating, Max? Answer him!_

"Well?" Mark prodded patiently, scrutinizing her.

"I promise." She finally stated, grinning to show him her insurmountable delight. 

A grin of his own graced his lips as he brought her head back down to rest on his chest. He felt content with her here with him, holding her as though they were anything more than just partners. It wasn't the affection that brought him comfort but rather the indisputable fact that she was with _him_ , not out there doing hell knows what and with who. 

Max found herself snuggling closer to her inspiration when weariness finally took hold. Mark, too, was beginning to grow sleepy and he didn't fight it as he allowed his head to loll back into the head rest of the couch. 

Before fully surrendering to a restful slumber, he removed his glasses and placed them on the arm rest beside him. By then, she'd fallen asleep and a small sense of pride swelled up in him to see her peaceful face in all its undiluted beauty partially buried into his chest. How she could knock out so easily after all of tonight's events was beyond him. Resisting the urge to kiss her cheek, he placed his head back onto the cushion behind him and closed his eyes.

That night, he'd never slept better, even upright on a stiff black and white threaded couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should probably remove 'fluff' from the tags and replace it with 'erotic asphyxiation' instead haha. Kidding! There will be actual fluff in the future. 🤗 and possibly more taboo kinks. ;) we'll see.
> 
> 'Til next time, folks!


	19. Marked for Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you've probably noticed, I changed the title to something a little more befitting and punny. I hope you all like it. 🤗 Formally titled ' _Beautiful Crime_ '. I published this fic on a whim without much thought of its future, but now that I have a general idea and outline of where I'd like it to go, it needed a better title!
> 
> That said, happy reading, folks. 🤗 I know it's been a while since the last update and I apologize for that. Insert typical 'my life is hectic right now' excuse here. 
> 
> Warning: this chapter is all over the place.

Silence greeted Max as she slowly awoke from her slumber. One eye opened after the other, her blurry vision focusing on Mark's thighs that were splayed some ways apart in front of her. The right side of her face pressed gently against his pelvic area that had served as her pillow with her arm still draped limply over him. A sleepy smile broke out across her lips, savoring the moment whilst silently hoping that there will be many more instances similar to this in the future. Wishful thinking, perhaps, but after what occurred last night, the odds had to have tipped in her favor. 

The faint ache circling her throat served as a blissful reminder that she hadn't dreamt any of it up; it actually happened and she blushed as she reflected upon the fresh memory of his hands being held against her skin so ferverishly. She closed her eyes briefly to imagine them on her again but in other areas of her body, forbidden areas that even she had never explored nor ever had the desire to. Until now. How would it feel if she were to touch herself to his lingering fingers right here, right now beside him? Would it stimulate her enough to draw his name from her lips? She could picture him waking up as she did it, his brown eyes widening in shock at first that'd swiftly evolve into desire. Instead of scolding her for the dirty act, he'd assist since she knew next to nothing about masturbation or how to go about it successfully. She was utterly incompetent in that department, in _all_ departments pertaining to sex. A complete amateur. 

Shaking that silly fantasy off, Max reluctantly lifted her head from Mark's lap and turned to admire his face. Seeing him without his glasses on set her heart aflutter and her lips parted in silent awe; even without them, he was still painfully handsome. No worry lines or rough edges marred his sleeping face - pure serenity. Was it only in sleep he could find true peace? She sorely hoped not. Max hoped for a lot of things and hope, she'd soon learn, was a dangerous thing to have.

She observed him for a few quiet moments longer before gently removing his heavy arm from around her waist and standing up to stretch. Cracks followed soon after and she sighed, her body feeling loose and renewed. After that, she took a look around the room. 

Erotic trust exercises aside, Max had successfully brought Mark's subject to him without a hitch and seeing the pride swell in his eyes heavily outweighed any guilt she might've felt for putting her friend in that position. It was a successful night. Now she just wondered if Nathan delivered Kate back to her dorm safely as her gaze traveled over to the jacket he'd left behind. It hung off backrest of the couch, a small reminder of the event that landed it there. Max could vividly recount it: Mark wrenching it off from her petite frame and tossing it aside in a fit of raging jealousy. The memory brought a self-satisfied smile to her lips as she took a brief trip around the room, her eyes taking in everything it hadn't when she'd been here the first time. 

Besides the haunting art that hung on the walls, there wasn't much to look at. Of course, there was the printer, light table, and computer, but the likelihood of Mark being OK with her messing around with his belongings was slim. 

In the middle of her trip around the dark room, her throat suddenly felt dry. With her aimless wandering, she hadn't bothered herself to peek inside any of the curious wall units that lined the right portion of the wall. The only one left ajar held the mp3 player, among other things; nothing else that would indicate a beverage hiding out in there. Surely he had to have stored a mini fridge around somewhere; you don't build an underground bunker and _not_ have a fridge installed.

From where she stood beside a few black crates that held photographic glories Max could only dream of handling, she proceeded towards the closest wall unit in search of water, or any other liquid she could find.

She slid the door open just a crack to first peek inside. Seeing nothing particularly eye-catching, she opened it completely for a better look and noticed a small fridge nestled at the bottom below shelves that held a myriad of empty red binders and a few photographic tip books that looked like they hadn't been used in ages. Max eyed them briefly, knowing full well their purpose and how they won't always be vacant.

Popping open the fridge open, she reached in for a bottled water as opposed to the soda. She twisted the cap off and brought the edge of it to her pursed lips, taking in the cold beverage in gulps. The cool liquid soothed her dry throat, revitalizing it. She wiped her mouth as she glanced back at Mark who was still sleeping in that same uncomfortable position. It was a wonder how he managed to fall asleep like that. 

Placing the half empty bottle of water back into the fridge, she wandered over to the smaller wall unit behind the desk and monitor. 

Max couldn't content herself with the tortured black and white photos that were displayed on the wall above the object of her deepest interest - the cabinet that held secrets and truths only one man knew. She'd caught only a glimpse of the vibrant red binders when she was last here and he was adamant in keeping her from seeing them. With him asleep, she was free to have a quick look, right? He'd never know. 

Drawn to the forbidden like a magnet, she crept closer, taking baby steps as quietly as she could until she reached the cabinet.

It was a poorly made decision, she knew, as she swung the door to it wide open. Rows upon rows of red binders filled the shelves, all marked with different feminine names. Suzie, Lynn, Kelly, _Rachel_. Knitting her brows together, she looked over her shoulder to see if Mark was still sleeping then grabbed the binder with Rachel's name on it and placed it down on the desk, her eyes never straying from his unmoving form.

' _He's a killer! He killed Rachel Amber._ ' She could hear Nathan's faraway voice echo inside her head. She didn't want to believe it. She couldn't.

_He helped you bury a body, Max. No one in their right mind would do that . . not unless-_

She shook her head, shoving those thoughts away to focus on the task at hand, not yet willing to piece it all together. 

Exhaling a small breath through her lips, she flipped open to the first page and had to suppress a gasp. Rachel Amber, permanently captured and stored here. The photos featured her posing in a variety of different positions, clothes, settings and angles. Each one was better than the last as Max leafed through the charcoal pages. Like with all of his other models, both willing and unwilling, Mark knew how to frame Rachel perfectly, was aware of which angle brought out her natural beauty the most and used that to create the stunning images Max currently gorged herself in. She couldn't tear her eyes off it. 

In between pages, she'd glance up to make sure Mark was still sleeping soundly, and towards the end, colorful open sceneries and morphed into darker themes that made her scalp prickle. 

Rachel had been taken to the dark room, drugged all the same. Most of the shots were of her unconscious save for one where she looked angrily past the camera, at Mark or even Nathan. That one amongst all the others captivated Max the most. The raw emotion on her face translated so well even through a monochrome filter and she gawked at it a second longer than necessary until she finally turned to the final page. 

There was a headshot of Rachel, bound and asleep with _something_ coming out of her mouth. She leaned in closer, curtains of brown hair falling on either side of her face from the action.

_What **is** that?_

Confused, she turned her attention to the other photo and tilted her head, taking in the disturbing image of a seemingly sleeping Rachel Amber lying in the dirt, her head and limbs bent at irregular angles. Her facial expression was smoothed down into a peaceful mask, unnatural and fixed. Max swallowed thickly, her eyes traveling to the other person featured in the photo - Nathan. His eyes were wide open, staring straight into the camera as he laid limp above Rachel's body. She couldn't think of a single good reason for him being there and didn't have any time to try and think of one. 

"Rachel was special," She heard Mark's voice say from beside her. 

So caught up in her perusal of the binder, she hadn't heard him approach nor did it register in her scattered brain that he used past tense to describe the girl in the photographs. 

"Oh," She breathed out faintly, her clumsy hands fumbling with the binder before it slipped from her grip and fell to the floor with a loud _thud_!

Cursing under her breath, Max fell on her knees to pick the binder up and avoid his burning gaze. He wasn't going to tolerate that, of course. She halted her movements when his shoes came into view followed by a single hand held out to her. Looking up at him, he didn't appear to be angry at her for snooping around and dropping his work. The expression he held was that of curiosity and a hint of amusement, as though she was both a wonder and a spectacle to behold when caught in the middle of an act she shouldn't be committing.

"I'm sorry." She apologized, giving him a doleful wide-eyed look that he absolutely relished in as she held the fallen binder out towards him. She acted like a deer caught in headlights, or was doe a more appropriate term? 

With a subtle shake of his head, he gently nudged the binder aside and offered his hand to her again. This time, she took it, wary of where he was going with this, if this was some ploy to lift her up just to knock her back down for being the nosy and clumsy little girl she was.

He didn't. Just pulled her back up to her feet where he then took the binder from her loose grasp. 

"A real human chameleon, so many visual possibilities." He continued on, dropping the binder back down on the desk and opening it up to a random page. His fingers caressed the photo of Rachel laying on her stomach, hands bound behind her back and unconscious. It was his favorite out of the bunch.

Max tried her best not to feel jealous, but failed miserably and it showed. She crossed her arms and tilted her chin up. ' _Stop, Max. Rachel could be **dead**. Ask him about what you saw!_

"You speak so highly of her." She mumbled idiotically instead.

He chuckled at that, a low and almost sad sound that instantly made her regret saying anything. What history did he have with her and how far back did it go? Hearing the sorrowful note in his laugh gave her reason to believe they were once close, possibly even closer than he was to her.

His slamming of the binder dragged her out of her inner musings, her eyes locking with his. 

"She's the past, _you_ are the future. My masterpiece." 

All thoughts regarding Rachel and what she'd seen in that final photo flew right out the window. He advanced towards her with purpose like a predator stalking its prey. Goosebumps rolled across Max's skin as she gazed up into his dark eyes, involuntarily backing up into a small filing cabinet beside the light table. The predator pounced, pinning his prey against it with his body that felt like a firm wall of hidden muscle. A tantalizing shiver shot down her spine as his large hand took hold of her chin and tilted her head back, exposing her throat to him. There was a faint imprint left behind from last night. but it wasn't enough. The animalistic and sadistic side of him felt the overwhelmingly strong urge to leave his mark _deeper_ into her skin. Skin deep. Something that will linger, to serve as a reminder. _Remind her._

Running his tongue along his pearly canine teeth, his fingers tightened on her jaw, holding her head firmly in place at an angle that exposed her throat to him generously and dipped his head lower. Max held her breath, her eyes clenched tight in anticipation. The doe laying limp at the wolf's mercy. An accurate metaphorical description if this moment were captured forever with a camera. 

Just as she was about to release the pent up air in her lungs, she felt his teeth sink into the flesh of her throat. She gasped, her hands shooting out to clutch tightly at his white T-shirt for support, afraid her knees might buckle. Her mouth formed a silent 'O' as he continuously applied more pressure like he did with his hands last night and she couldn't suppress the breathless moan that tumbled from her lips. He responded by clamping down harder and she winced, unable but desperately wanting to drop her head back and sigh in bliss. To her disbelief, it felt _good_. The pain intermingled with the fact that it was _his_ mouth and teeth that were latched onto her made it intensely pleasurable. What nails she had clawed at his shoulders, her body growing hot and flushed as she pressed it feverishly against his. She felt that same sensation as before spark between her legs except she wasn't shocked about it this time, only yearning for a touch that will never come.

Right when she was about to dig her hands into the locks of his hair, he pulled back and ran his thumb over the angry bite he left behind. ' _Mine_ ' he'd breathed against her skin before he pulled away. A quiet declaration that went unheard.

Disappointed and more than a little woozy, she loosened the hold she had on his shirt before dropping them back down to her sides.

"What was that for?" She asked, slightly winded and still reeling.

He smirked knowingly. "Like I said, you're my masterpiece, my _muse_. The canvas to my brush, the clay in my hands to mold. If I feel like painting you red, I will." 

' _Painted red?_ ' She repeated silently to herself, still gazing up into his eyes. ' _As in blood . . . or something else?_ ' 

Either way, she felt immensely flattered. She not only inspired him, but was also a useful ally. That's how she took it, anyway. She wasn't sure how to feel about being compared to clay, though. She wasn't _that_ easy to manipulate, was she? She realized a little too late that he'd change the subject; she needed to know what happened to Rachel. 

"You can't just bite me whenever you please, Mark." She mumbled, peeved with herself for allowing that to progress as far as it had. "Or . . paint me red, as you put it."

Chuckling, he folded his arms and leaned back against the desk in front of her. 

"Sure I can," He argued, tone coated in light amusement. "In the morning before school begins, here at night, in the middle of class . . ."

Kneading her bottom lip with her teeth, her thoughts soon scattered towards what one of those scenarios would be like. 

The lights were out, blinds drawn with the only illumination emanating from the flat screen as it showcased a documentary - 'Richard Avedon: Darkness and Light', to be exact. Mark would do his rounds through the aisles of the desks, making sure none of his students were on their phones or sleeping, before making a stop directly behind Max. He'd grab a fistful of her hair, yank her head to the side and bend at his waist to claim her neck for his own, marking her. She'd fight to keep herself quiet and he'd lend a hand in pressing his to her mouth, muffling her moans.

"Besides," He started up again, drawing her out of her salacious thoughts. "I'd say you thoroughly enjoyed that."

Her well-rounded cheeks reddened as she rubbed her arm and looked down to her feet. She wasn't going to admit to that. It'd boost his ego higher than it already was and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being right in his observations. 

He looked away before he could catch even a glimpse of her flushed face. Now wasn't the time to fight off his boner and he made a mental note to ring up an old acquaintance for a much needed release. It'd been too long since he had a good fuck and she never hesitated to oblige. It'll be difficult since his body only seemed to respond to the woman standing before him, but he'll manage. 

"Could we talk about Rachel for a minute?" Max asked when her cheeks returned to their normal coloring and temperature. 

Exhaling sharply, he redirected his eyes back onto her, his arms falling from his chest so he'd appear more open to the conversation than defensive and closed off.

"What's there to talk about?" 

"I saw a bad photo in there," Was her inane description. 

"A bad photo?" He repeated, pushing for elaboration.

"Rachel . . she -" Max fumbled, her tongue feeling thick and heavy in her mouth, powerless to form words.

"She _what_ , Max? What is it you think you saw?"

It took a moment for her to respond. Gathering her bearings after seeing something like that proved to be difficult, as expected; nothing with him was ever simple. 

"I don't _think_ , Mark. I know what I saw." 

He scoffed. "Alright, Max. What'd you see then, huh?" 

She hesitated, sensing the rising tension in the air as she nervously twiddled her fingers together. 

"Rachel . . . in the ground. With Nathan laying there beside her." She managed to say "Is she dead, Mark? Did-" It was hard to even get the question out without shuddering. "Did you kill her?"

He stared at her silently, appalled that she was accusing him of such a horrendous crime, but not surprised. 

"Do you hear yourself?" He flipped the tables so swiftly it startled her. "You sound nuts, Max. I don't know what you saw, but nothing in there depicts what you described." 

Was that it then? Had she truly imagined it? He had no reason not to trust her at least a little bit more since the events of last night. Following that brainless logic, there no reason for him to lie to her. Right?

"C-could I look again to be sure?" Before the words even left her mouth, she regretted it, grimacing as she saw his face shift from a neutral mask to a full blown scathing glare.

"You don't believe me?" He questioned her softly, his tone faintly accusing.

"I-"

"I've been nothing but transparent with you, Maxine, and this is how you repay my honesty? With baseless accusations?" 

"Sorry!" She quickly hopped to apologizing, fearing he'd toss her out in the dirt if she didn't. "I'm sorry! I don't know what I was thinking-" 

"You're thinking I have something to do with her disappearance." 

Could he blame her? Rachel hadn't been seen for months and he possessed photographic evidence of the poor girl lying in a shallow grave with Nathan's body right there next to her. Regardless of that fact, he didn't like that Max couldn't just accept his word. 

So fragmented was her mind and thoughts, desperate for his approval, she didn't bother to consider the consequences of lying straight to his face. 

"No! I'd never think that-" 

He lifted his hand to silence her pathetic ramblings and her mouth snapped shut.

"Do not _lie_ to me." He warned, his voice threateningly low and gentle. 

"I'm sorry," She apologized _again_ , her head dipping low to avoid his disappointed stare.

Max thought it best to zip her lips and keep quiet from here on about Rachel. It wasn't her place to question him about his past subjects, but when one of those subjects is a missing person, it was only natural for her to be curious about her whereabouts and what could've happened to her. She was obviously in the dark room at some point and then taken somewhere outside, surrounded by junk on a barren stretch of land. Maybe she was there, her final resting place. 

But it all could've been imagined, as he'd said. Regardless, she chose to abandon the topic altogether. It wasn't worth the headache and bringing it up had put a damper on their morning. Or afternoon, or whatever time of day it was. Time didn't seem to exist here.

"You're forgiven," He spoke at last, tilting Max's head back up by her chin. She hadn't noticed him close the distance between them. "but no more talk of Rachel, got it? She's exactly where she belongs." 

' _In the ground,_ ' Max finished silently to herself as if it was a secret only she knew. 

She couldn't speak of Rachel, but did that include Nathan as well? He was featured in the photo too. No, she didn't want to risk angering him again, so she bluntly asked a question that's been at the very back of her mind, "Have you ever killed, Mark?" 

His facial expression didn't alter. He didn't blink or move, much less breathe. He only stared at her with a confusing mixture of both skepticism and longing, the warmth of his fingers bleeding into her scalp as his hand absently raked through her hair. She didn't have much time to read deeper into what that could mean since it was gone half a second later, leaving her questioning whether it was imagined or not. 

Without a word, he dropped the hand that was buried in her hair down to her neck, his fingertips tracing the edges of where his teeth had embedded themselves. A hiss poured from her lips from the contact, either from pain or surprise, but the eager tilt of her head disputed both of those theories. With her throat now exposed to him, a satisfied hum vibrated from his chest, reverberating through her whole body as he pressed a fleeting kiss over the bite mark. If she wasn't wedged between him and the cabinet behind her, she'd most definitely have fallen from lack of blood flow to her legs. That was going to various of other places in response to his simple touch, places Mark will never explore. 

"What was the question again?" He whispered to her softly, prodding his wicked tongue against her heated skin. 

Max felt like she was on air, too high to focus on anything other than his addictive touch and damning voice. He was trying to distract her, she knew, and it was working. 

"W-wha-?" She sputtered, her speech jumbled and illiterate. 

He paused, exhaled a breath, then bit down hard on her already abused flesh. Max wailed in shock, pain, pleasure, every emotion one could think of as her nails dug into his shoulders, her pelvis thrusting up against his of their own accord. She had no control of her body, she'd surrendered it all to him and he molded it to his tightly, his rock-hard cock pressing urgently against the underside of her belly. 

"Typical Maxine. Never paying any attention." He purred into the wound he created, a smile curving along his lips. 

Max's hands moved from his shoulders to dig into his hair when, just like before, she was interrupted with his hands hooking around her wrists, stilling them at either side of his neck. 

"You wanna know if I killed someone?"

Somehow in the midst of her confused and highly aroused state, she nodded her head sluggishly and almost whimpered when his lips transformed into an evil grin, one that formed knots in the pit of her stomach, searing itself into her memory.

"Consider this, little doe, I helped you bury a body. You think anyone who hasn't gone through that routine already would even _think_ to do any of that for anyone?" 

It took a moment or three to gather her bearings and even longer for her arousal to ebb. She smiled at the cute little nickname he'd give her and eventually, when she was convinced her voice wouldn't crack or falter after such an assault, she pondered over his question with pinched lips. 

"N-no, I guess not." She mumbled.

"And why is that?" 

"Because they'd have called the police." 

"Exactly, and who are ' _they_ '?" 

She pulled a convincing thinking face, attempting to bring light to the situation with being silly, but as soon as his words sunk in, she froze, standing frigid in his arms. Her assumption since the beginning had turned out to be true - he did it all before. Finding a suitable location, digging for endless amounts of time, not _once_ mentioning how wrong it was to cover up a murder. The signs were all there, she just refused to acknowledge it.

Somehow, she found her voice again and repeated his question over in her head before whispering, "People who haven't gone through that routine . . . people who have never killed." 

"Bingo." 

When she said nothing, he breathed steadily out through his mouth and brushed her bangs off to the side, pressing his lips to her forehead. He was mentally preparing himself for her to shove him away from her, knee him in the balls, headbutt him, _something_. 

None of those things came. Just her sweet, angelic voice asking, "Who?" 

He blinked at her a few times, perplexed she was asking that and not running for the door. 

"I don't keep track of every person I've killed, Max." 

"Would any of them happen to have a binder stored in there?" She inquired, glancing briefly at the unit that housed over a dozen of them. 

He narrowed his eyes at her. She was indirectly asking if he killed Rachel Amber, wasn't she? It was a sly move, one he'd have pulled earlier if he was in her shoes. But when he studied her face more closely, most notably her eyes, all he saw was genuine curiosity and a determination he wasn't expecting; not here on a topic like _this_. 

"Yes," He replied evenly, holding her gaze with his.

He was testing her, seeing if this newfound information would finally be what drives her off. She'll run, he'll pursue and then it'll be all over. 

Max's blue eyes didn't stray from his, instead preferring to wallow in it. He probably thought she'd be afraid of him, that she'd run and never look back. Quite the opposite happened. She felt herself drawn to him more than before, defying every single expectation he had when she rose to her tiptoes and returned his affection by placing a kiss on his forehead. Mark pulled slightly away from her, unable to comprehend her acceptance that he earned so quickly. _Too_ quickly. 

"You . . . understand?" He asked in a hushed whisper, seeking confirmation.

"Of course I do. I've killed too, you know. We were only protecting ourselves." 

"We?" He cocked a brow up.

"Yes. I know you wouldn't have killed those girls on purpose unless they gave you reason. By ruining your shot, waking up before you wanted them to . . ." She trailed off, dropping her gaze to stare blankly at his chest. Her night spent beneath his lens didn't happen too long ago. She vaguely remembered the moments after waking in the middle of her session, his body looming over hers, flashing lights, soft spoken words. It was the beginning of a daunting, confusing partnership, one neither was expecting to come out of that night.

Smiling softly at his speechlessness, she wrapped her arms around his narrow waist and embraced him tightly to her. It took a moment for him to return the gesture as he was still slightly dumbfounded by her open acceptance of him and his heinous crimes. ' _Too precious,_ ' He regarded her fondly as he reached up to cup her cheek, feeling the heat rising there from her blush before trailing back to grip the nape of her neck. ' _Trying to see the light when it's long been snuffed out._ ' 

His opposite hand fell lower and pressed against the small of her back, pulling her closer until his pelvis was flush against hers. She was able to feel him through his pants earlier when their passion for one another lifted to new heights, but now that things have settled down, it wasn't as prominent. When she considered how someone as bland as her could get someone like him to respond the way it did, it made her feel lightheaded with warmth and pride, significantly boosting her self esteem and confidence in herself. 

The longer she held him with those lingering thoughts in her mind, the more her need for him grew. In truth, she just wanted to kiss him. The ones she's given him up to this point had been innocent and chaste, nothing that could carry on to something more. Removing her head from his chest, she looked up at him, her eyes drawn to his inviting lips.

She didn't know what possessed her to press closer to him and close her eyes. Had no idea why she puckered her lips and leaned towards him, anticipating that cataclysmic moment when their lips would finally meet in a fervent first kiss. The romantic in her was the culprit to her inevitable rejection and she swore to exterminate it from the cracks of her fractured heart once this was over.

Sure enough, instead of feeling those demanding, shapely lips collide into hers, they came into contact with the pad of his pointer finger. Popping her lids open, she looked back up into his eyes to see an unreadable emotion flowing through those chocolate pools. Embarrassment crashed into her violently and it felt like a punch to the gut. Perhaps she had too much confidence.  
After everything she'd done for him, he still didn't want her. Not that she expected him to suddenly want to pursue something more with her, but she hoped. Foolishly, she'd hoped. And what was she supposed to make of everything he'd done to and for her in return? Holding her, kissing her, _biting_ her, looking at her like he wanted to devour her body and soul. Was all of that nothing? 

_Stop it, Max. You are an adult, think like one. He only wants to tease and seduce you, move the fuck on._

With that thought in mind, she withdrew from him and cleared her throat. 

"I'm sorry. I-" She cut herself off from blubbering a stupid excuse and sighed. "It won't happen again." She promised, eyes downcast.

His head tilted a fraction as he examined her more closely, wondering if she truly meant that.

"I haven't exactly discouraged your advances." 

"Until now. Is there something wrong with me?" She glanced back up to him, her bottom lip wobbling against her will.

"Of course not, Max-" His back abruptly straightened, face twisting into concern as he reached out for her. 

She took a step back from him, refusing to submit to his touch again. It was a shot to his heart seeing her move away from him when only minutes before she was molten lava in his hands, and it physically showed when his eyebrows knitted together, a grimace etching into his features. It took every ounce of strength he had not to pull her back to him as he struggled to mask his racing emotions.

He needn't try. Max pulled the sweater he leant to her over her head and threw it at him. 

"Take me back to Blackwell." She muttered as she walked off, grabbing Nathan's jacket from the couch on the way out. It was an impulse - she just needed something to hold onto and that was the closest thing.

Mark didn't bother catching the sweater; it lay forgotten at his feet. His teeth grinded harshly together until it hurt, jaw clenching and loosening at odd intervals as he tried to keep his calm. Fighting the memories of his past when they came boiling to the surface never had a pretty outcome. It made him furious, volatile and incredibly violent, and he lashed out at the closest thing to him just to keep himself from attacking the person who brought it on in the first place. 

Grunting, he lifted the monitor up from the desk and threw it against the wall. The wires and plugs tore away from the expensive piece of technology, damaging it further before it crashed and fell to the floor where he continued his onslaught of pent up fury and pain. It was nothing but a heap junk by the time he was done and he punched the nearby wall for good measure. With so much adrenaline pumping through his veins, the impact of the punch didn't hurt, just tickled him in slight discomfort. He gave it a little shake then examined his knuckles to see that they'd been scraped, blood oozing from the tiny abrasions up to the surface.  

_Get it together, Mark. She left the room, not **you**._

Reminding himself of that brought him down some as he stared at the destroyed computer monitor. He'd been meaning to get a new one anyway. With a fitful sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and exited the dark room, making sure to turn the security back on and lock the door behind him. 

Max was leaning against the passenger side door of Mark's car, fighting back her pathetic tears. She'd heard a loud noise come from the dark room and had shuddered. She knew how he could be when he was furious and was glad she wasn't there to witness it. His rejection was enough, she didn't want to be a victim of his anger too. 

She jumped when she heard the loud noise of _something_ being slammed shut, but refused to turn and see what it was. As she stood there, awaiting his presence so he could unlock the doors to the car, she couldn't for the life of her figure out why _he_ was mad. _He_ denied _her_. If anyone had a right to be angry, it was Max.  
Sure, she rudely threw his sweater back at him instead of being civil and handing it over, but certainly that small act of rage didn't warrant this sort of violent behavior. His wrath stemmed from somewhere else, she decided. Where that was, exactly, she intended to find out. Not today and definitely not tomorrow, but one day when he trusted her enough to let her in.

The unmistakable sound of a vehicle's doors unlocking snapped her away from her thoughts. She turned, peering down through the tinted window to avoid looking directly at Mark and quickly piled inside. She adjusted her body on the comfortable cream-colored leathered seats until she was facing the window. In this position, she wouldn't be able to see him, not even in her peripheral. 

The drivers side door yanked open promptly and with it came a small gust of air intermingled with his natural musk, a delicious brew of faded cologne and sweat, all wafting her way as he slid behind the wheel and slammed it back shut. Max flinched at the abrupt and loud sound, but kept her eyes trained out the window. 

' _He's just trying to get your attention. Ignore it, Max._ ' She advised herself and actually listened to that inner, and often smarter, part of herself. It was the part that recognized what she had going on with her teacher was bad and it was on a suicide mission to knock some sense into the other part of her that didn't care about right or wrong, what was good or who was evil. That dangerous part of her made was making itself known day by day and soon, there won't be any voice of reason drilling it into her head that pursuing any type of relationship - criminal, romantic or otherwise - with her teacher would have dastardly consequences. She'd do what she wanted without having to constantly ward off the pesky voice that tried to hold her back. She couldn't say for sure if she was looking forward to that day or not given her current situation.

The car jerked forward, gears shifted and engine roaring as the tires practically peeled out of the barn. Max shrank into her seat, clutching at whatever she could to keep herself from flinging off the seat. Once they swerved onto a stable, two-way road, she exhaled a quiet breath and took hold of the jacket on her lap that was her only solace in the uncomfortable silence. 

As she stared blankly out the window and the ever-changing scenery beyond, it occurred to her that he didn't stop and step out to close the doors to the barn. Worried, she sat up to gape out the sideview mirror; the doors to the barn were wide open, inviting any curious traveler or urban explorer to wander inside and possibly discover the dark room. It may be hidden beneath the earth, but that didn't mean it couldn't be found. 

"Uh - Mark, you forgot to shut the doors to the barn." She informed him, her voice meek and low.

 _'God, you sounded pathetic. When will you grow a backbone?'_ She inwardly berated herself. 

"I don't give a damn about that right now, Maxine."

She pinched her lips together to keep herself from saying anything foolish that might provoke him and shifted in her seat.

Unable to keep her eyes glued to the window for a second longer, she tilted her head towards him slightly, first noticing how hard his hands gripped the steering wheel and then the bleeding knuckle on his right that he didn't seem to care about. She swallowed down a gasp that jumped into her throat at seeing him so badly injured all because of his rage. He must've known hitting a wall or hard countertop, if given enough force, would leave behind a mark. But he did it anyway and paid the consequences with his blood. Again, she struggled to come up with an answer as to why he was mad at her. She did nothing but want him, and that was her mistake.

Feeling her eyes on him, he shot his gaze from the road and onto her, giving her a start. She looked away quickly, not wanting to see anger undoubtedly swimming within his eyes. 

"Put your seatbelt on." He told her firmly as the car picked up speed.

She focused on the blur of green outside her window instead. The trees were mesmerizing when blurred and unfocused, where colors blended together and distorted into an unclear ever-moving image.

It was unwise to not heed his words and when he demanded it of her again, she shriveled into herself - a defense mechanism. She knew it'd ease his mind if simply followed through with it, to continue to obey him despite what he'd done, but she had to prove to herself that she was officially done with trying to appease him, and so she chose to ignore.

Mark was certain she heard him. Could tell by her suddenly tense shoulders, her labored breathing, the inconsistent rise and fall of her chest. Refusing him affected her, it seemed, and a war waged between pride and desire. Which will prevail?

"Put your fucking seatbelt on, Maxine. _Now_." He ordered forcefully through his teeth, voice strained and on edge. "I won't ask again."

"Or what?" She challenged, unwilling to give up any more of her pride. 

"Or I'll slam my foot down on the brake and watch you fly right out the fucking windshield. Your brains will be all over the pavement in less than a second." He seethed venomously and added a dash of salt to the wound by declaring, "And I'll take a picture of it to feature in my next dark room photo series, 'Postmortem Artefact'. Like I said, Max. You're my masterpiece, in life _and_ death." 

They were biting words spoken out of anger, not truth. He didn't want hurt her and he hoped she'd recognize that, but given her body language, that was unlikely. 

Max blanched and sunk deeper into the seat, wanting nothing more than to melt through it and onto the street below as she reached for the seatbelt with trembling hands. She remembered the last time she tested him by saying, with the utmost of confidence, that he wouldn't toss her into that grave and he proved her wrong real quick by doing just that. 

She sniveled as she clicked the seatbelt on and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. A single tear trickled down her cheek. Would he wipe it away if he saw it, she wondered? And lick it from his finger like he did when he hovered over her while she cried in the woods that night.

He didn't turn to look at her again. Through her peripheral, she saw him prop his arm up on the door while he kept his bloodied hand on the wheel. Relaxed. Seeing it prompted her to ease her tight muscles a little, to release some of the stress and anger all of this brought on. 

Even though he didn't want her, it was hard for her to imagine going back to an ordinary life, or a life at all without Mark somehow entwined in it. She couldn't quite grasp the idea of living one without him and so she shut that part of her brain off, not wanting to worry over something she had no power over.  
If Max hadn't grown so close to him and known true fulfilment being by his side, maybe then it would have been easier to fathom. Even if she remotely wanted to revert back to that old life, she couldn't. It was hardly recognizable. Besides, Mark wouldn't allow it; she wouldn't leave him, not alive. He'd made that clear. 

The only solution to prevent something like this from happening again was for her to kill her strong attraction to him. Things would run much more smoothly if she were to succeed and they could then continue on with his nefarious plans for the remainder of the year, if he still wanted her around. She didn't even want to contemplate the likely scenario of him getting rid of her and moving onto someone new after this scandal so, to distract herself from those horrible thoughts, she reached up to glide the tips of her fingers over the mark he'd left on her throat and had to bite her tongue to keep herself from making a sound.

Being shot down by him hurt more than his bite ever could. He'd said in the beginning how their relationship was to be strictly 'professional' yet there were too many instances where it far surpassed that line. He either forgot all about it or was pretending he'd never said it at all. He couldn't even keep himself from breaking his own word yet expected her obey his. 

Then she considered the incident involving Nathan and his jacket. He'd been an ass to her most of the night until he started sparking it up and leant her it as a truce, of sorts. It was an out of character but otherwise kind gesture and Mark simply ripped it off from her and gave her his own. The man was possessive over someone he didn't even want. Why? It didn't make any sense to her.  

She watched as watercolors of green outside her window filtered into quaint homes and small stores. They cruised down the street at a more reasonable, safer pace and she felt her arms loosen around the jacket the closer they rolled to their destination. Taking in the sights of the town isn't something she's had time to do since moving back. Not a lot had changed during her absence. A few shops she remembered going to as a kid were either shut down or replaced, but other than that, all was the same. Just like the Two Whales.

Mark hadn't said a word since his deadly threat and she wondered if he regretted saying it. The tick in his jaw indicated he didn't. She wanted to ask why he was so angry, but a more important question came to mind, one that, depending on his answer, would either begin the healing process of her shattered heart or break it all over again.

When he parked the car a half a block away from the school, it instilled the fact in Max that he couldn't be seen dropping her off in the front, a detail that slipped her mind. He was still her teacher at the end of the day and now that she had the chance to get away from him, she didn't want to. There was too much unresolved anger between them and she didn't want to leave it on a negative note.

"Do you care about me at all, Mark?" She asked quietly, looking down at her tangled fingers resting on her lap. "Or has this all been an act?"

He had to have cared at least a little, otherwise he wouldn't have demanded her to put her seatbelt on when he was driving well above the speed limit. He would've killed her already. She just wanted verbal confirmation, to hear those words fluctuate through his voice. She wasn't asking for the world. 

She waited for a response for what felt like an eternity, taking that time to summon the willpower to accept the deafening silence as her answer. 

Finally allowing her tears to fall, Max yanked the car door open, stumbled out and slammed it hard behind her with every ounce of strength she had. The windows rattled from the violence and all Mark could do was watch as his precious muse and protégé walk further and further away from him until she vanished in the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never know how to end chapters without it sounding lame and cliche.  
> Anyway, I think we can all agree that I made Max into a wanton submissive fool. Rest assured, she won't _always_ be that way for two out of three of those.  
>  Stay tuned. ;)


End file.
